ish
by teakettle and scone
Summary: COMPLETE 14 SLASH Times change. The KND has become the TND. Grade School Villains have been exchanged for High School Horrors. Four's relationship with One has become... complicated. The TND pulls together to survive high school. at least, surviveish
1. sulk

ish  
  
written by Teakettle and scone  
  
chapter 1: S.U.L.K. (Spacey Uno Little Knows)  
  
"Excuse me?" The Media Technology Assistant coughed to catch their attention, glaring malevolently over the collective shoulders of the TND. "Are you working? Due to the implementations of Library Regulations 1000.56 Beta Code C through 1000.89 Gamma Code, no one may enter the sacred space that is the library unless they can prove definitively that they are engaged in academic work." He coughed again, wetly this time, belying a thick layer of mucus in his chest. Four winced with distaste, wondering what exactly was growing in there to make that sort of a sound.   
  
One blinked, emerging from the absorbed fog he entered when working on anything. "What did you say?" he asked, somewhat irritably, distracted and irked at having momentarily been dragged out from 'The Zone.'  
  
"Look, if you're not working on anything, we'd really like you to wear some kind of insignia designating you as a non-worker. You know, a nonproductive element, a parasite on the decent, hardworking pillar of this school that is The Library Community. If, within 15 minutes of being presented the insignia to wear, you continue to exist, we'll have to move you over to the door on the left, where a special convoy will take you to… a place. A SPECIAL place. For nonworkers."  
  
"Look," One snapped, removing his sunglasses in frustration. "Look, this, right here, in THESE HANDS, is my Advanced Placement European History Book. On this table here is my trusty laptop. On this trusty laptop is a 15 page paper concerning the defense position of the European Union. What, if you ventured a professional guess, would you say I was doing?" He slipped his sunglasses back on and look back down at the screen. Four smirked a bit, indicating he'd heard the debate but continued jotting down some notes. Three stared at a particularly fascinating whorl in the wood grain. Five, her headphones on as always, was dead to any world outside of her French textbook and her Miles Davis CD.   
  
The man blinked, eyes narrowing into piggish little slits, nose crinkling unappealingly. "If you're going to be difficult, we could go talk to the Delightful Dean. And as I've told you before, those sun glasses-"  
  
Nigel jumped up from the table with surprising dexterity, swinging his legs around to stand nose to nose with the balding Media Technology Assistant. "I give in," He growled menacingly.   
  
Four jerked his head up in shock. "No you don't," he corrected, somewhat shocked. "You NEVER give in. Not even when we all want pizza and you want Sheppard's pie! Not even when we all want a pot of coffee and you're up first, and any descent human being would help his friends out. You just insist on making earl grey and telling us it's good for us!"  
  
Nigel took a moment to glare at Wallabee, teeth grit, before returning his attention to the somewhat confused Media Technology Assistant. "That," he said with extreme enunciation, "Is not the point at issue here."  
  
"As I was saying, you found me out. I was not studying. I was wasting valuable library space studying the ancient art of kabuki performance. Any moment now I plan to procure some makeup and perform Madame Butterfly for the whole bloody library. Want a ticket?!" Number One had begun panting a bit with rage.  
  
Kuki discreetly whispered, "Nigel, Madame Butterfly is an opera. In order to qualify as kabuki…"  
  
"Also not the point at issue!" Nigel screeched.  
  
"But I do love Madame Butterfly!" Kuki added supportively, trying to soothe Nigel. "I'm sure you'd make a great Geisha abandoned by an American GI to give birth alone and in shame and die miserable and alone!"  
  
Abby had taken off her headphones when the screeching interrupted an artful saxophone solo. Her typical concern for her Peerless Leader's wellbeing peaked with the increase in his panic attacks. In earlier days he had been relatively unflappable, but the strain of Fighting Evil for 17 years straight, the last four of them with ever diminishing support, had made him, though not uncontrolled, much more volatile.   
  
"Nigel," she began in a calming voice.  
  
"Don't start with me today Five! Yes, Library Man, this entire paper was merely an elaborate front, a clever ruse to deviously take up space in your nearly deserted library! I'm trying to take over, to undermine your authority! I'm exerting my evil influence and crashing your computers, drinking the blood of the innocent. You've found me out, you clever bastard!"  
  
Three winced. "I sense… anger, Numbuh One. How long has it been since you had your tea? I could make you some."  
  
"You just sensed that now?" Wallabee muttered sardonically. He leaned back idly to watch the show. His eyes betrayed a hint of concern for Nigel's ever worsening discipline record. If thing kept up, it might even rival his own one day in the far future.   
  
"You do it all wrong!" Nigel whipped his head around to glare malevolently at Kuki. "It's green! Tea shouldn't be green! Only lizards are green! By god tea is brown, black or grey, Three! And if there's never milk in it or scones near it, logic dictates that it IS NOT TEA!"  
  
Bright, shimmering tears welled up in Kuki's large brown eyes. "If you are what you drink, then I'm a lizard! But you're the cold blooded one, Nigel, and it's not easy being green!" Gathering her things up in a huff, she stormed out of the library, smacking into Numbah Two as he entered, striding briskly. "What?," Kuki shouted, even further irritated at his lack of concern for her. Having caused her to drop her books when they collided, he stood there dumbly instead of helping her pick them up. "Are you going to be mean too, you people-smacking-into lizard hater? Are you going to insult my national cuisine?! How about my favorite color! Everyone hates me!" Sniffling, she ran out towards her beloved photography lab.   
  
Two stood where he was in confusion, half of a sandwich in his sturdy hand. His eyes caught Five's, and he mouthed 'what?' before noting that next to Abby stood the Media Technology Assistant and Nigel, quite obviously on the frequently-trod warpath. Over the years Nigel had worn it into a deep trench, widened it into a broad highway. Wrapping the sandwich and shoving it back into his satchel with practiced ease, he ambled past the ample NO FOOD IN THE LIBRARY! Signs and made his way to the table where his friends sat.  
  
One stared after her, looking more irritated than concerned. He was certainly unused to being disrespected by a member of his team, no matter how unreasonable he'd been getting lately. The shock diffused his anger slightly, though he still felt the pressure of hormonal rage.   
  
"Boy, I won't have you getting smart with me. How about we have a little chat with the Delightful Dean?"  
  
"Do it," Four growled, "And you'll have a little chat with my Delightful Fists."  
  
"You too!" The Media Technology Assistant frothed, "I'm getting sick of your insubordination!"  
  
"I'm not a 'boy.'" One seethed, angered at yet another assault on his teenage dignity. Yet again, the rights of the young were being infringed upon. Nigel wouldn't be Nigel if he didn't combat such abuse at every occasion he saw it, and even many occasions when it simply didn't exist. "Ill-bred dogs can be called 'boy.' I'm not in that category. Mr. Uno will suffice."  
  
Two arrived as the Media Technology Assistant attempted to regain what meager control over the situation he'd ever had. "No hats in the Library!" He jerked a knobby finger at Two's worn pilot's hat.  
  
"It's really more of an appendage than a hat," Two offered nonchalantly.  
  
The adult once again performed the subtle dance of eyelids that resulted in a disapproving glare.  
  
"I wear it for medical reasons." Hoagie said, unshakable.  
  
"Just what are those?"  
  
"It's a personal problem. Involving fruit."  
  
While Two stalled for time, Four fobbed around in his immensely messy, battered black backpack. The SLEEP device (Super eLite Extermination of Everyday Problems) was in there somewhere. Invented by Hoagie at the age of fourteen, there was no surer, easier way of knocking an enemy out. It had the drawback of only having one good shot in it before it had to be recharged at the base, but it was reliable, and Wallabee kept it around for those little problems when his usual excessive displays of kung fu mastery were just rather inappropriate.  
  
When his hand finally brushed the cool metal, just as Hoagie was explaining what kinds of fruit were really at the root of the "personal problem," ("Kiwi, for example…") he smirked. With confidence, he pulled out the SLEEP, only to discover that the safety had been too well oiled and slipped during the drive to school. This was always a risk during the life-threatening adventure Abby referred to as driving. Many things, such as entire bones and muscles groups, permanently shifted position as Abby conquered every pothole by jumping the truck with the worst suspension in the world over them at 70 miles an hour. SLEEP had apparently expended it's might on… his lunch, a Snickers bar.   
  
"Damn it, what is an unconscious Snickers going to taste like?" he groused, wondering if even the power of SLEEP could knock out the vast collection of preservatives in every bar. Shrugging, he grabbed Five's textbook right out of her hands and, wielding it as expertly and gracefully as he did his nunchucks, dealt a mighty blow to the Media Technology Assistant's spine, dropping him to the floor with nary a sound.   
  
"Excellent work, Numbuh Four," One said crisply. As always, he recovered rapidly from his manic state, retreating into his bizarrely British professionalism in his continuous effort to project his authority.   
  
"And you're an excellent piece of work. What the hell were you thinking? How many times can I knock this man out before we get suspended en masse?"  
  
"Abby would like to point out that, for once in her life, she was not actually involved." Abby set down the book and swung towards her leader, holding her hands between her splayed knees. "How many times has Abby offered you somethin' to calm you down, Numbuh One?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "And you know it's the very best stuff Abby has. Abby wouldn't offer Number One any less than the best."  
  
One's eyebrow twitched. "That's very… kind of you, Abby. And very illegal. As much as it pleases me that your job dealing in such substances gives you self satisfaction, please respect my choice not to… shop in your particular market."  
  
"Numbah Five thinks this is all a fancy way of One saying he'd rather be an anal-retentive ass the rest of his life than take some time for his'self, to chill."  
  
"The phrase 'anal retentive ass' is too repetitive. Look, even if I had time to 'chill' in–"  
  
"Um, guys?" Two asked, somewhat irritated. He and Four had efficiently tied the Library Man to an unabridged Oxford English Dictionary. Even if he managed to worm his way out of Four's expert knots, the book would weigh him down and further delay his return to The Front Desk. "Where do you think we should hide him?"  
  
"The Cheese Information Section," the two chorused in unison. A long ago grant from an eccentric but rich alumni had furnished entire rows in the shadowy nether depths of the library with every text on the making and consumption of cheese known to man. It would have been a popular make out spot due to its privacy, were in not for disturbing, ancient but pervasive vague odor of musty cheese. "Perfect," Abby concluded, "no one ever goes there!"  
  
Two interrupted, "I go there! Frequently! To be near the cheese! I find it relaxing to do my homework there- so quiet, so peaceful, so… cheesy!"  
  
"That," interrupted Abbigail, "Is because you's a cheese lovin' freak, my man."  
  
"That true," Hoagie admitted sadly.   
  
The four laboriously dragged the heavy, weighted body back to the abandoned section. "What," grunted Nigel as they swung the corpulent man around a bend in the shelves, "Is up with Kuki lately? She's hypersensitive, flies off the handle at the slightest provocation, has lost all of her usual good temper, and has not taken her duties as seriously as she usually does!"   
  
"Said the pot to the kettle," muttered Abby to no one in particular.   
  
"What?" Nigel snapped, sharp ears always on the lookout for dissent among his team that needed quelling with a swift application of his unquestioned authority. Abby chose not to elaborate. "What?" Nigel repeated, angrier now, putting the body down and his hands on his hips.   
  
Four, as always, was the least inhibited by tact. He knew the value of telling his leader the truth- any good commander needed the most and best information possible. "Kuki's in a weird mood, lately, yeah, but then again you've just described yourself." He put his corner of Fat Adult down, swiping his sweat away with a flick of his hoodie sleeve. "I mean, we do fewer missions than usual. It's a dry spell, so you're on edge. You always are when we don't have much to do. But you seem busier than ever – you complain about homework constantly, everything stresses you out – which isn't like you – and you spend every bleeding free moment with that fucking bitch Lizzie."   
  
One sighed, preparing to rehash a constant argument he'd thought they could avoid for at least a day. "I'll thank you not to call her that. She's a perfectly nice girl. She's important to me. You're my best friend; the least you can do is make a bloody effort to understand that occasionally I like seeing her!" He grumbled in a lower voice, "You just don't understand because you can't relate, never having had a girlfriend."  
  
Four's left eye twitched a bit. During the KND's last battle with the Delightful Children a bit of shrapnel had clipped his temple. He's spent a few days in the hospital recovering, and though the scar was nearly invisible, his eye did tend to twitch oddly when he was particularly upset. It had been one of their last battles as the KND. When they'd reported for decommissioning and reassignment from the KND to the TND, Wallabee had known, though less so than Nigel, that their comfortable way of life was about to expand in a way that was somewhat uncomfortable and frightening. Whereas the team consisted of One's most important friends, the group, and especially Nigel, were without question the most important people in Four's life.   
  
He frequently wished he could return to the simplicity of his life in the KND. That was a life in which Nigel never hinted that Wallabee was somehow defective. Back then the fact Four couldn't relate to or trust people outside of the KND didn't matter because their collective world had consisted only of each other. That, he reflected, had been a world where Nigel wanted to spend all his time with his Team. A world where he didn't fuck Lizzie three nights a week and didn't think anyone was more important, more interesting or absorbing than Four.   
  
"Don't talk as if I haven't got a wanker," Four sneered. "If I'd wanted a girlfriend, any girlfriend, I'd have had her backwards and forwards by now. But if the best you can do is Lizzie, count me out!" Nigel gapped in indignation, more surprised at Four's harshness than eager to defend a girl who he felt he was drifting farther from with every day.  
  
Abby, always sensitive to the emotions of the people around her, noticed the tic signaling that Four might actually be hurt. She motioned to Two to help her start dragging again. "A little help here, you two?" She called. The two turned around as if suddenly noticing the presence of your friends and an unconscious, sad middle aged man. The started hefting, and within a few minutes they'd found a good cranny to stash him in. By the time he woke up or got free of the ropes and dictionary, Two would be back from running home to get his equipment, standing in front of him waiting with a STEM (Short Term Experience Makeover). Two would, with a degree of satisfaction that a violator of teen rights was being dealt with, explain that the librarian had suffered a schizophrenic episode, hidden in this corner, and felt a sudden urge to check himself into Morning Glory Heights Hospital for the Criminally Insane.  
  
Walking out into the better lit sections of the library, which suddenly seemed more populated now that its tyrannical Führer had been relocated, the TND blinked, adjusting their eyes to the increased light.   
  
"I maintain Three's out of it. More than usually so, I mean. I'll see her after lunch, I suppose I'll make amends. Though perhaps she, or rather her culture, owe the world as a whole a greater debt. I mean, they did attempt to foist that sad imitation of real tea on innocent people…"  
  
As usual, the Team ignored One in Rant Mode. They gathered their things and, leaving the library, drifted out towards the cafeteria. "Vile Library Nazis," One muttered. "I never did get to finish my paper." Two could not help glancing at the Non-workers shuttles with morbid curiosity and some fear. Abby just rolled her eyes at their pretentiousness. It was only when One and his trim black leather briefcase turned a corner in the wrong direction that Four became suspicious.   
  
"Where do you think you're going?" Four tried for levity. He floundered somewhere between rude and achingly overexposed. "I know the food's bad, but even you do need to eat."  
  
"It's Wednesday," One said as if it were obvious. "I always eat with Lizzie on Wednesdays. You know that."  
  
"Right," Wallabee muttered. "I hope you have an excellent time, Uno. I'm sure you're relieved by the change of company. Not too tedious, am – are we?" Before Nigel could get out the typical response (namely Exasperated Sigh Number 6) Wallabee stalked off.  
  
Nigel hated fighting with Four. It was like playing croquet with the Queen of Hearts in Alice in Wonderland. The rules were unknown and unknowable. Everyone involved always ended up casualties of the game. He felt like Alice- terminally confused. Remembering his favorite childhood book now made him uncomfortable. Like most of his childhood, his experience of it was saturated with Wallabee, who he was beginning to feel he did not know well at all despite all they had shared. He walked towards the courtyard where Lizzie waited, feeling anxious and unhappy.   
  
Abby shook her head in the aftermath. "Abby thinks – " she looked down at Two, whose height she'd eclipsed early in their freshman year. "Odds are that Hoagie doesn't wanna know the details of what Abby thinks. But it involves One, Four, and a general relieving of tension."  
  
Two rolled his eyes. "Tension? Four's just angry – as usual. When will you understand no one here wants your 'magical' products, Abby? I've gotta go get STEM from home. These days it'd be less trouble just to carry it with me everywhere we go. Catch you later."  
  
"Get a clue about what Abby was suggestin' while you at it, Two." She muttered, rolling her eyes. "But now that Two mentions it, Five could do with some Herbal Refreshment herself," she said, walking towards the nearest exit and fishing her lighter from her pocket.  
  
In the rarely explored depths of the extensive gym department, Wallabee Beatles massacred an innocent punching bag. If the punching bag had been a person, Wallabee would have been a murderer several times over by now.  
  
"Stupid," punch, "Fucking," punch, "Nigel," punch jab kick, "Acting like he's commander all the bleeding" Roundhouse punch, "time!" He stepped back and panted before attacking with renewed fury. When enraged, Four was inexhaustible, as his many opponents had learned over the years. /If One were still such a good commander, he'd be with us more. He always used to say that was important, being 'in the trenches.'/  
  
"Now he's in Lizzie's trenches," He spat, not enjoying the pun at all. It felt like heresy, insulting anything about One's leadership. It felt like lying and petty jealousy, insulting One at all. But he felt clean hating manipulative, nasty little Lizzie who was always betraying Nigel's trust and always being forgiven. It felt entirely justified.   
  
/Goddamn it Nigel/, he thought bitterly. /You draw all the wrong lines. You trust me in everything but the most important thing, and give that to someone you don't trust at all. Or shouldn't, if you do. Not smart – not prudent./ "Not fucking fair," he ground out, taking another swing. He dropped his hands at the wrong moment and the bag swept him to the ground with the force of his own swing.  
  
He lay there, not crying, not moving, just breathing. He lay in his own sweat as the bag swung above him, always looking about to drop. He began to shake, feeling directionless and lonely, like a ship in a storm chasing a star that deeps disappearing behind malevolent clouds. One always ripped him up. One shook him nearly apart, and never seemed to notice that the pieces wanted putting back together again. 


	2. angst

ish  
  
operation a.n.g.s.t   
  
agitated Nigel gets slightly touchy  
  
The door made a slight squeaky sound as Nigel held it open for Lizzie. He winced a bit, wondering if anyone at this sad excuse for the bistro ever oiled the door hinges, much less cleaned off the surfaces they made the sandwiches on. He mentioned this offhand to Lizzie.  
  
"Nigie," she squeaked, "You're adorable when you're irritated. I like your cute little pout." Being demeaned and emasculated was his entire relationship with Lizzie. That was, when he wasn't saving her from whoever was interested in killing him today. You'd think that after dating an operative since they were both ten, she'd have acquired a bit more evasive skill.   
  
He didn't expect her to have Five's savvy, Two's technological know-how, Four's… pure and uninhibited RAGE, or even Kuki's je ne se quoise, but surely she could recognize obvious evil plots and dodge mind controlling rays. Say, one out of every ten times? He shook his head. It wasn't that he didn't like Lizzie. He felt very protective of her and fond of her. She was a sweet, if somewhat shrill girl who had been devoted to him despite his constant absences and obsessive devotion to His Work, whatever that was at the moment.   
  
He knew he was a bad boyfriend. He suspected no one but Lizzie would put up with his admitted egotism, distraction and lack of interest in a relationship. If he really admitted it, underneath his constant command demeanor, he wasn't as comfortable with himself as he had been as a child. The anxiety of adolescence left him somewhat frightened that was wasn't the unshakable leader he'd always imagined himself to be. The mirror showed a somewhat short, perpetually irate boy with thin hair and a terrible disposition.   
  
"…Nigie, have you been listening?" Startled, he realized he was sitting down, a menu sitting limply in his hands.  
  
"Of course," he smiled charmingly, "You're certainly right." Taking a wild guess, "She is intolerable."  
  
"Oh Nigie," she beamed, "you always know what to say."   
  
"It's a gift."   
  
"And don't you hate the way-" Nigel's eyes drifted back down to the menu. Roast Beef on Asiago, or French Onion Soup? Why did no one ever put shep's pie on the menu? Was it so much to ask that occasionally-  
  
Food ordered, Lizzie ran out of steam. "What's been up with you lately?"  
  
Leaning forward and grabbing her hand, attempting to find the closeness he couldn't feel, he stared at her a moment to long. She squirmed. "Nigie, why do you stare at me like that? Honestly, sometimes, you're so weird."  
  
"Sorry," he said, leaning back, folding his hands over his chest, rolling his head back and closing his eyes, bringing the water glass to his lips and taking a sip before starting a rant on how Kuki was 'such a mess lately.'  
  
"I'm starting to worry about her! Or at least, I think I should worry about her. I don't know, I've know her since we were eight, shouldn't I care more that we only talk in Photography? She's lost all her old pluck, you know? I think that even if we got a great mission, she wouldn't snap back. What happened to make her so- different?" He sipped with exasperation, mopping his mouth delicately with a napkin. "And don't get me started on Four. What crawled up there and died has got to weigh a metric ton."  
  
Lizzie frowned. "When we're out together, you always talk about your friends. Don't you realize it's a bit rude? I don't think you realize it, but you wouldn't know one of my friends if they met you in the street!"  
  
She has friends? he thought, slightly dazed. "Lizzie, I'm sorry if I've been insensitive. If your friends are important to you, than I-"  
  
"That's just it! My friends don't seem to be anywhere near as much a fixation for me as they are for you! Can't you ever talk about something else? Us, for example?"  
  
"Are you saying I'm boring?!" He was deeply shocked.  
  
"Nigel, don't be silly. Every time you're not talking about friends, your organization, school work or rights issues, you can be a blast! No one's as clever as you, and you're kind of witty. Not to mention," she smiled adoringly, "adorable."  
  
"So it's just when I talk about anything important to me that you get bored, then?"  
  
Lizzie plunked her spoon down in her clam chowder ferociously, letting the china and metal plink loudly and the soup splatter across the tablecloth, a stray speck landing on Nigel's sunglasses. With a moue of distaste, like a fastidious cat, he cleaned it off.   
  
"So I'm not in the 'important' category?" She thundered as he rubbed, speed increasing with her volume. "Christ, what does one have to do to earn a place on Nigel Uno's 'Important List?' Give you orders or threaten your rights? Call you 'Number One'? Cause frankly, this faithful girlfriend stchick doesn't seem to produce results. You care about Abby more than me!"  
  
"Untrue and unjust! Five's a friend, and my second in command. Most of my life involves her, so I mention her frequently. It doesn't mean I'm fonder of her than you!"  
  
"Wallabee, then? Why are you still hanging around the same person you did when you were ten, especially when he appears not to have matured since?"  
  
He smacked his hand on the table, but spoke in a quiet hiss. His fear of a scene eclipsing his ire at her irrationality. "So now I can't talk about my best friend? Bloody Hell, Elizabeth! Why can't you two get along? He's perfectly mature! At least he doesn't have your propensity to hysterics. Is it so much to ask that my girlfriend and best friend don't consistently try to damage my opinion of each other?"  
  
"You think I'm hysterical? Christ, Wallabee looks at me like he wants to rip my throat out, eat it and save the rest of me for the kangaroos!"  
  
"Which are herbivores," he said with viciousness. He pulled a twenty out of his wallet and left it on the table, on top of a bill which has been delivered by an undoubtedly nervous waiter without their notice. No one felt very safe around Nigel. It was a bizarre mark of courage that Lizzie felt confidant discussing Relationship Issues with the Patron Saint of the Angry Glare.   
  
"Look," he began, calmer, "We're both really tired. I've been writing this hellish paper all week, and you've been finishing your Art Portfolio for the AP exam. I'm sure we're just a bit distracted." He smiled at her, attempting to smooth. Nigel wasn't unquestioned team leader for nothing. His people skills were excellent, when he bothered to apply them. Lizzie knew this, and found it insulting that he only used it with her on special occasions. Shouldn't he be, well, more interested and invested in keeping her happy?  
  
"Yes," She agreed icily, "I'm sure we're having huge relationship problems because we're a bit overworked. I'm sure it hasn't been developing for months as you consistently ignore me and treat me like a ugly cousin you have to entertain and don't even like instead of like a girlfriend! Gosh Nigel," she said with saccharine sweetness, "I wish I were as bright as you."  
  
"I'll thank you not to insult me. OR my friends. At least I'm trying to be accommodating."  
  
"That's you, Uno the Accommodating! That's the adjective I'd pick! Not tyrannical, dictatorial, or smart-ass. Accommodating is the word I was searching for all along. That's why you won't even-"  
  
Nigel put his hand over her mouth, horrified, then grasped her hand and practically dragged her out onto the sidewalk. "Why on earth would you even think of mentioning that in public?"  
  
She wrenched her hand out, massaging it a bit. Nigel typically didn't realize that he was a bit hardier than most. What he thought was moderate pressure would typically be labeled as bone-crushing. "Please, you think the Counter Guy cares? I think Counter Guy wouldn't care if we did it right there. He wouldn't even stop to watch. He makes minimum wage. No one pays him extra to give a damn." She narrowed her eyes. "Not that you'd fuck me there or anywhere else."  
  
"Elizabeth! Language!"  
  
"See, you never correct Wallabee!"  
  
"He doesn't talk about THAT!"  
  
"I think he may."  
  
"What on earth are you talking about?" His urbane voice turned from prissy to suspicious.  
  
"He is rather obsessed with you."  
  
"This from the woman with my face covering the surface of her walls. What is it now, 27 separate pictures?"  
  
"Can you blame me for wanting some way to get your attention focused on me?"  
  
One rolled his eyes. "Poor martyred Elizabeth. Anyway, I can't think of anything more ridiculous than Fou- Wallabee being fixated on me."  
  
"Then you're blind. No one would hate me that much with out some proprietary interest."  
  
"I can think of reasons." He muttered below her hearing level, immediately feeling terrible for having thought it. "Look, meet me tonight at Le Ball du Shame, say sevenish, and we'll have a talk. Maybe you're right and I've been a jerk. Maybe I need to reprioritize." After all, it wasn't like he was as productive a TND leader as he had been a KND leader. Three wasn't happy, Five was concerned about him, Four was- Four was something, alright, and Nigel was disturbed by his obvious angst. Four was the dependable one- he saw what needed done, and he did it. Four saw no complications, Four had no moral dilemmas. He was loyal, devoted, tough, smart and fiercely abided by his moral compass. One sometimes wished he could share that undeniable sense of purpose.  
  
Parting from Lizzie and walking back to his next class, he frowned. Why was he wrong to consider his friends' problems more important than his Lizzie-related angst. They had real issues. Lizzie just had drama. An excess of poorly conceived drama. Like Hallmark made for TV movies. He shuddered at the thought. If he was their leader, and they placed trust in him, then he had to reciprocate by looking after them. If anything, he needed to stop this shilly-shallying and choose which he wanted to focus on- Lizzie or the Team. If he left the TND for her, as she had long wanted him to, he had no doubt the team would collapse and drift away from the organization The TND would loose a valuable cell, and he would loose most of what made him himself. He was shy about admitting it, the KND and TND had been him life. To have those memories tampered with might destroy his personality. He knew Lizzie didn't understand what she asked, but it still stung she wanted less than all of him.   
  
But she certainly wanted more than he wanted to give. Crossing the parking lot, he winced at the memory of exactly what she wanted to do next. 'It.' Sad, paltry little euphemism. Nigel might have been a bad example of a teenage boy, but he knew what that led to. Inescapable commitments. The outlining of the path he would follow the rest of his life. The death of his childhood. And Lizzie called it bizarre that he didn't want to loose it?   
  
Wallabee would hate him if he did. He'd know, just looking at him when he walked into the tree house, he's know, he'd see it, see how dirty and pathetic Nigel felt. They'd all know, and they wouldn't respect him or love him anymore and then he really would be all alone. Four worshiped him, and he, respecting the boy's judgment, love himself. And all was right with the world, anything was possible, because if critical, fiery Wallabee believed in him then he must be everything he was cracked up to be. Sitting down in Environmental Science, he drummed his fingers on the desk, distracted. He had to stall Lizzie, somehow.   
  
Pondering his near-obsession with what his team, namely Four, thought of him, he didn't notice himself slowly slipping down the chair, under the desk, and onto the linoleum. Amidst the muffled giggles at suave, respected Nigel Uno royally embarrassing himself, One, blushing and glaring furiously, picked himself up and buried himself in the textbook until class properly started and the commotion died down. It was a spectacularly bad day to be Numbah One. 


	3. five

ish  
  
chapter 3: five  
  
five's  
  
insight  
  
very  
  
entertaining  
  
Smoke wafted in front of her in long, undulating lines. Abby, seated in the shadow of her rusty red pickup, concentrated of blowing out the trail of marijuana smoke as slowly as possible, letting it almost drift out of her slightly pursed lips. As Frenchie of Grease would have expressed it, the Parisian-born agent smoked 'French-style,' savoring the flavor as a true connoisseur. After all, Abby saved the best she received for her personal stash, so this stuff deserved every second of the savoring. In this dazed, sensory overload, the word 'Five!' screeched loudly into her ear by a chipper Australian was the last thing she saw coming. Choking on the smoke she held in her mouth, burning her throat a bit in the process, she snapped towards Four. "And what the HELL," She panted, trying to catch her breath, "Was that shit for? What'd Numbuh Five do to you lately?"  
  
"Nothin.' The opportunity was there." Wallabee offered gravely before smirking, "And the opportunity was hilarious."   
  
Five scowled. "Boy, I hope for your sake you did not ruin Five's Gandalf moment for some of your typical stupid shit."  
  
"No. This stupid shit was completely atypical."  
  
Five ground out her now wasted joint on the rim of her wheels, considering their rusty, dilapidated state and wondering if MTV's Pimp My Ride took calls from desperate Juniors in Northern California. If this baby got some TLC, maybe some undercarriage lights, some Grade-A fuzzy dice, maybe she wouldn't feel such disgust for it. Then again, suspension that didn't make trips to the grocery store feel like a do-it-yourself home roller coaster rides might also go a long way. Maybe a paint job?   
  
As she mulled over ways and means, high as a kite, she was temporarily brought down by the look in Four's eyes. Previously, her typical practicality had kept her from broaching on what she was sure was the most dangerous subject one could EVER bring up with Four. However, being Five, high, and irritated with the whole damn thing, she charged at the topic.  
  
"Four, stop broodin' about him. It makes Numbah Five uncomfortable just bein' around this kinda anxiety, damn near ruins her trip."  
  
He swiveled around at her, his look one of utmost horror. "What," he swallowed thickly, "are you talking about?"  
  
Five lifted the brim of her cap to give him an appraising look, raising an eyebrow drowsily as she did so. "I know you ain't stupid. I'm lettin' you know that I know." She slung an arm around his shoulders. "How long's it been goin' on?"  
  
"WHAT? Nothing's going one- I mean, ON! ON, damn it!" He jumped up, panicked, eye twitching like the dickens. She continued to give him the sympathetic, slightly patronizing look. "You think you're pretty damn discrete, doncha?"  
  
"Discrete?" He babbled. "There's nothing to be discrete about. And even if there were, I can't believe you'd bring it up, and even if you brought it- damn it, there's nothing, nothing at all!" Grasping wildly, "You're just high."  
  
"Bear in mind," she added mildly, "that Five in no way mentioned what she suspected. She opened the door. You's the one that walked in that door, shut it, locked it and hung a little 'home sweet home' sign on the walls. The walls of your closet, fool. So exactly how long have you been passionately in love with Numbuh One?"  
  
She was down in the grass before she knew what was happening. "Take it back! And don't mention it in public! Jesus, I can't believe you said his name! What if he heard?!"   
  
She arched an eyebrow. "From the science wing across the school?"  
  
"It. Could. Have. Happened." Four hissed.   
  
"Then it is true." Abby smiled, flicking her dreads over the shoulder, leaning up to look at him but remaining on the ground. "You don't just have a crush. You don't just want him. You Luuuuurve him."  
  
His eyes tightened, he started to shake a bit, sliding to the ground beside her, leaning against her heap of a truck. "Stop taunting me," he hissed. "Christ, Abby, what'd I ever do to you?"  
  
"Hey, hey," she soothed, "I'm just- look, sorry, aight? I didn't mean anything by it. I don't understand why you don't tell him."  
  
Four violently shredded dandelions from where he sat, viciously ripping them from the ground, pulling out the roots, decapitating them and shredding the petals. "That'd be a bleeding lark. 'Hey One? It's a lovely morning. Fancy tossing out the girl you've been with for seven years and taking your devoted, mentally negligent sidekick with an anger problem to bed? Could be fun!'"  
  
Abby rolled her eyes. "You ain't modest, so don't fake it." Beginning to fidget with one of the dandelions spared from Four's wrath, she twirled it between her fingers slowly. "Besides, the rest of the team wouldn't exactly cry a river for the loss of Lizzie." She winced, remembering the boyfriend helmet and countless other occasions of Lizzie-related stupidity they'd endured. "She's not a bad girl, but she's- not quite right for him. Hell, she's not quite right at all. She's not what he needs."  
  
"And what do you think that would be?" Four muttered, twirling the remnants of the dandelion carcasas in his hands.   
  
"To start- a damn good wake up call from you. Using those things boys typically wake up to."   
  
"Wha-"  
  
"Damn, you IS stupid. Do I need to hand you an instruction manual, because you being you I would think you'd have been practicing The Pounce with pillows in your boxing ring for a few years now."  
  
"I NEV-"  
  
"Don't lie. Five does the laundry." He winced. "Besides, that boy is in no way straight."  
  
"I thought he was just British."  
  
"This is more than British. Man folds his underwear. Unnatural. Plus, you're perfect for him. You've spent years becoming perfect. Do you really think there's anyone in the world who respects, balances, loves and wants to screw One's brains out more than-"  
  
"Hi guys!" To Four, the sudden arrival of Two's chipper voice was as the footsteps of DOOM. "Just wanted to stash-"  
  
Dashed against the side of a 1973 Ford pickup, hearing muffled, Hoagie could still perfectly make out Four. "What. Did. You. Hear." His growl was unholy. His breath was pretty damn unholy as well. Vegemite did not create sweet breath, or, in Four's case, a sweet personality. If you were what you ate, Vegemite was damn pissed off.   
  
"Mmmm Hmmuh." Two grunted. Four relaxed the pressure of his hold. "Nothing! What were you talking about? If it's where Five keeps her stash, trust me, I don't care, and Four, I didn't think you did either."  
  
Five stood up, rolled her eyes, and brushed the grass off her pants. "You mention it so much, I'm damn sure you ARE wantin' some. It's like those Puritans- only talked about how nasty sex was so much cause they really wanted some." The Numbuh Five Theory of American History involved a universal need, on the part of everyone from Framers to Populists, to smoke up, get some and relax. Recently, this had expanded into the Five Theory of Personal Relations- a Theory she'd dearly love to see in action if the case involved Four and One. Well, not see- Five had no interest in that. Just- know had occurred.   
  
"Look," said Two, "I just want to put STEM in your truck so that you can take it back to the Tree House. If I leave it on my Vespa, there goes secrecy."  
  
"There goes STEM." Four agreed, letting one go, but not without suspicion in his eyes. "Someone would steal it. It's shiny. So-" Four fidgeted. "So you really didn't hear anything?"   
  
"No," Hoagie said, exasperated as Five took STEM, opened the side door and stowed it safely. The shoe-box sized, oddly curvaceous metallic computer was covered with wires, diodes and ports. There was no view screen- it had to be controlled via Hoagie's ultra-secure laptop. This security measure made it nigh impossible to steal TND equipment and do damage with it. The physical computer could be stolen, damaged and destroyed, but not controlled or hacked. Hoagie prided himself on this application of his /\/\4d 1337 5k1llz (or mad leet skills, in English). "And if it's got you this paranoid, I don't think it's anything I wanted to hear anyway." It was usually easier to just avoid Four's supercharged Rage, and Two attempted to do so whenever possible.   
  
"Now that that's over, I know you've got somethin' for your home girl Five's munchies. Lay some jelly donuts on me, my man."  
  
Four's paranoia gradually subsided. It gave him a tight little ball of tension in his stomach, knowing that Five saw through him. He couldn't help wondering what he'd done- was it his constant repetition of "Numbuh One thinks?" His constant grousing about 'If Numbuh One were here' the moment he left the room? His bizarrely obsessive admiration? He mentally beat himself to a pulp. He was transparent. How could One NOT know? Was he just being polite, not saying anything because he knew what it would cost his best friend to have it out in the open? No, no, he was panicking. One didn't know because One couldn't know. But even though he didn't know, it was-  
  
"FUCK." Four shouted loudly, banging his head into the car door and promptly falling down on his ass, ignored by Hoagie and Abby as they downed their jelly donuts with rapture. 


	4. kick

ish

chapter 4

k.i.c.k. (kuki is cross kilter)

"Hey." Nigel slid into the chair beside Kuki, who was contemplating cropping the photo in her hands and doing her best to ignore her leader's existence. The room was empty, as it was after school, but for Kuki, whose devotion to perfection in this class went far beyond the norm. 

"Soooo…" He tried again. "I guess you're still irritated about me blowing up at you earlier."

In response, she silently held up a small, well-drawn doodle of him, mutilated and spurting colored-pencil blood, the words 'die, Nigel, DIE!' prominent above it's severed head.

"Would that be a yes?" Kuki remained unresponsive. Nigel got irritated. "I don't know how to fix the situation if you won't tell me what's wrong. Bugger, the silent treatment? Sometimes you have the communication skills of a five year old!"

"That," she said sternly, "Is exactly what's wrong. When are you not insulting me? Do you ever appreciate anything I do? You're so rude to me!"

"Is this attack Nigel day? Bloody Hell, is it a bloody national holiday?"

"Yes – all Nigels everywhere have to go in hiding to be safe. No one sent you a memo cause everyone thought you deserved it."

"Clever. Listen – I'm having a bad time of it lately. School's off, Four and I are – well, and Lizzie and I – screw it, everything's going to hell." He tapped his fingers on the table savegly, as if he wanted to bore little holes into the cheap faux wood with his nails. Kuki set her photo on the far counter and walked back over, leaning against the table.

"Hey, what IS up with you and Lizzie?" Her tone was interested, but not very sympathetic. 

"It's – kind of private." Kuki sneered.

"That's right, don't trust Kuki. Don't tell stupid little Kuki anything, she'll just screw it up, she doesn't NEED to know–"

"What the hell is–"

"I found out why I got on your team in the first place, last week."

Numbuh One's throat went dry. "I don't know what you're talking about," he tried. "Assignment is based on testing into the team, based on compatibility and the requirements of the team. You know that – it's standard procedure."

"So is the Language Quota. Picking favorites isn't."

The language quota was the iron guide of the multinational organization. At least half of any team had to be bilingual. HQ operated on English, so all team members had to speak that, but out of a team of five, at least three had to have working knowledge of a secondary language. It was a basic necessity for continent-hopping, flexible teams. After Nigel had passed Command Training with flying colors, he was assigned the prestigious and difficult San Francisco base, aka Sector V. 

In picking out a team worthy of the command, he had a huge choice of operatives to pick from. Unfortunately, few of them were bilingual. He himself spoke Gaelic from his father's time at the University of Edinburgh. It was a pretty useless language, but it did count. Plus, when 86 swore at him, which was often, he knew exactly what she meant. 

Abigail's had been the first name to catch his eye. From her time with the Parisian Team, she'd already compiled an impressive record. Now that her father was, like his own, being transferred to Berkeley, she needed a new position. With her experience and skills, he was only too happy to make her his Second. Hoagie, already living in the area, was rumored to be the next big thing in TwoxFour Tech. As the area was difficult to defend, Nigel needed a technical expert at his back. A corporate expansion brought many new businesses into the city, one of which hauled an Australian family, complete with one potential agent, across the world. 

Though the boy, one Wallabee Beatles, had no experience, his profile was so impressive that Nigel thought he needed him on the team. This was highly atypical - usually familiarity with the organization would have been necessary before being placed on one of the world's most hazardous bases. Unfortunately, this overbalanced Numbuh One on the Language Quota. The Moon Base accepted Gaelic as widely spoken enough to qualify, but Wallabee's smattering (i.e. five swear words and 'I did NOT steal your sheep!') of aboriginal languages were deemed useless. In order to keep Wallabee on the team, Nigel needed another member. 

Unfortunately, the only other bilingual KND operative in the area was Sanban Kuki. Reluctantly, Nigel added her to his team roster. He wasn't impressed by her track history, which was not only lackluster but littered with failures. Nigel took Kuki on to keep Hoagie and Wallabee, and reminded himself of this, gritting his teeth, every time she flubbed a mission or generally worsened the Team's situation. He tried to put the conditions under which she joined out of his mind and focus on her positive qualities: when not giving them vacations, she had a knack for Hamster maintenance. Sometimes her unorthodox solutions were successful. In time she'd become quite useful, in her own way, and Nigel had near forgotten what a sacrifice including her had initially seemed. 

Being reminded of it now was startling. He'd never meant for her to know, and it was extremely hurtful information. 

"I didn't pick favorites. You – you had your own positives." He fudged the truth. "Anyway, how the hell did you find out?" 

"Last week, you had Numbuh Two do computer maintenance and Defense Upgrades simultaneously. He delegated the system sweep of old info to me. It'd been long enough for your personal files from the inception of the team to be declassified for deletion by the system. I came across the personnel files – all the notes you'd made as you designed your team. You're so unreadable sometimes, and – and I like it when you approve of anything I do. It doesn't happen often, so, though I shouldn't have, I opened mine. I wanted to find out what you'd thought about me." 

"But I've know you for years, what was in there, it doesn't mean anything anymore."

"It does." Kuki started to cry. "You know it does. Five and Four got such glowing little remarks. Even Hoagie did. What did I get? Shit! It's like your parents telling you that you were an accident, but worse because you ARE being rejected based on who you are as a person, by people you respect and care about!"

Nigel didn't know what to say. Really, what could he say? At least she didn't know she'd failed the Testing to get into the TND. He'd told Command he wanted her for the sake of team unity, and, being Nigel Uno of Sector V, gotten what he wanted. She'd been the only member not to pass – she'd been declared too immature to handle being a TND operative. He'd presented them with an ultimatum - He got to keep his whole team, or the organization lost their most promising operatives in years. All five of them. What was worse, he'd not done it for Kuki's sake – he just was more comfortable with the team as it was. He hadn't even consulted the others, being fairly sure Command would give him what he wanted. Maybe Kuki had failed because the TND really wasn't for her - maybe she would have been happier doing something she wasn't so obviously ill-suited for. But that wasn't quite right.

"Numbuh Three," he tried, "You're a good agent. You weren't what I was initially looking for, but maybe that was my fault. Since your first mission, I've noted continuous improvement. There have been times when you and you alone have saved the team. Remember the lice?"

"My one shining moment was standing against the LICE? Jesus, that's sad!"

"And what about the ice cream factory, eh? Your creative thinking–"

"I severed up an ice cream party that one time, but most of the time, I'm the one getting Served!"

Nigel blinked, not understanding the reference, but went with it. "Better an ice cream party than a pity party. Look, I'm telling you, the team values you. If you need to hear it fifty times, make yourself a recording."

"Could you be any more of an ass, Numbuh One? I don't need a lot of validation, but occasionally, I'd like not to come in last in the race to be Best-In-The-Team."

"And sometimes," He said, very gently, catching her eye, "you come in first, you _really_ do. Okay?" He handed her a handkerchief.

"You–" she sniffled "Ac-Actually carry around a handkerchief. Oh Nigel, you're _so_ out."

"I'm so WHAT?"

"Nothing, misspoke, so what are we getting for dinner?" 


	5. denial

Chapter Five

d.e.n.i.a.l. (denying emotions negates interesting alliances / liaisons)

            Perhaps it wasn't National Beat Nigel Day, Numbuh One thought as he hung his coat up on the hook by the door in his foyer before climbing up to the treehouse. All things considered, he' gotten Kuki calmed down, and dinner with Lizzie, while wounding his pocketbook, has somewhat soothed their relationship issues. He'd stuck to his guns about not wanting to take their relationship to a physical level, and Lizzie had tried to respect that, though not without cracks about him hiding the evidence of a work-related accident that had deprived him of the ability to do what she suggested. 

            "You're not a eunuch, are you?" Lizzie quoted with a smirk. 

            "You know, it was cuter when Johnny Depp said it."

            "Oh WAS it? Like the boys then, Nigie?"

            He blushed. "They wish." Nigel was in a relationship with Lizzie… he just found men to be attractive too, under certain conditions. He sometimes felt like his partial closet had a Plexiglas door. The evening had progressed nicely, with him being careful not to dominate the conversation. Their relationship wasn't in a great spot, but he was confident that things could work themselves out until he and Lizzie reached a better place. 

            When he reached the common room, he was immediately greeted with trouble. Five and Two were working on math homework, Three was dozing on the couch, but Four was absent- ominous, because that meant he was off brooding somewhere- well, or beating the shit out of some one or thing. He hopped it wasn't the hamsters- explaining to Wallabee repeatedly that they needed them for Powuh had had no effect on his constant attempts to one-up them. Sad as it was, the hamsters were usually way ahead of him. The hamsters had the benefit of collective consciousness, but still…

            Walking through the large door marked Four, One was stopped by Abby calling back to him. "You sure you wanna do that? He lost a match today at practice, so he's Extra-Rageful."

            Balking, Nigel swallowed audibly. Nothing was more frightening than Four after his fighting skills had been maligned, yet it was his duty as Four's best fried to get in there and reassure him that yes, he still had it, and no, no one could kick ass like Wallabee Beatles. It was a general Nod and Smile operation- a scary one, because of Wally's intensity when challenged, but it had to be done.  

            Penetrating Wally's inner sanctum, he grew progressively closer to the thwacking sounds of Wallabee massacring a something in his boxing ring. Looking up, he saw his teammate, dancing around a training robot lightly. He was shirtless, gleaming a bit under the lights. Nigel remembered two summers ago, when he'd accompanied Wallabee on a visit to see his family in Australia. His grandparents lived on a station, and they'd spent a rare, peaceful month bumming around and helping out with the farm's chores. Wallabee had gotten pretty well-muscled on the trip, and maintained the effects. 

Nigel couldn't help it when his eyes slid to Wally's developed torso. It was an unconsciously fascinating sight. When Kuki had done her AP Photography portfolio depicting power, there was a particular shot of Wally, tense and expectant, crouched and ready to spring, bare muscles taunt. "He's beautiful like that," She'd commented. Silently, Nigel had agreed. 

He didn't think he was attracted to Four- he just liked to look at him. He just sometimes had interesting dreams. Shit. He mentally backpedaled. He just was best friends with him, he admired him. He admired him right now when he took a swing of water and a bit missed the mouth, sliding down over his chest and lower- SHIT!

Wallabee leaned back against the post in the corner. "'Suppose Abby told you my sob story then, eh?"

Nigel jerked, making the transition between Fantasy Wally, who'd said something really different, and Reality Wally, who wanted to take about wrestling of the clean, school-endorsed variety. "She said you were upset about practice, if that's what you mean. I come bearing moral support."

"'Sright, I was just distracted." He leaned over to pick up his discarded hoodie, giving Nigel, who by this time had climbed the ladder to the ring, a soft smile. 

"You, thrown off in the heat of battle? Not like you." Examining his choice of words, he internally winced. Using words like 'heat' around Four sent his eager brain and other assorted bits the wrong message entirely. 

"Eh, it happens." Four answered noncommittally. "Where've you been all night?"

One cleared his throat, then soldiered on bravely. "Out to eat."

"You didn't bring any back?" Four asked with aimiable curiosity. "I'm starving, man. Where'd you eat then."

"Le Ball Du Shame." One muttered.

"_Oh_." Four's open expression shriveled on his face. "So you're back a bit early, then. What, did 'Nigie' get 'thrown off in the heat of battle' as well?"

One felt like smacking him. "For your information, not that you need to know, and so that you stop making 'oh so clever' puns about it, Lizzie and I don't do anything of the kind."

"Yeeeeeah," Four sneered.

"Wallabee," One using his given name caught Beatles offguard, "I'm not sleeping with her. We go out to dinner and such. We don't do anything I don't tell you about. Satisfied?"

Gobsmacked, Four stared at him in amazement. "You mean you never-"

"No."

"And she never-"

"NO!"

"But you two-"

"No, no, no! Bloody hell, Drop it! Why do care so much about it anyway?"

"Well why DON'T you?" Four said, near accusingly. "And here I thought she was good for something."

One put his hands on his hips. "Were you born such an unspeakable ass, Four? Because if I were your mum and you came out of me, I'd have thrown you to the nearest dingo. I don't sleep with Lizzie because I'm not inclined to."

"You're dating someone you have no interest in sleeping with?"

"It's not precisely like that!"

"What 'precisely' _is_ it like?"

"I just-" Nigel sighed. "How would you feel if you knew that I- we- well, we did that?"

"Considering I thought that you had? Pretty pissed."

"Why pissed?" One asked, irritated. He really didn't think Four had a decent reason. 

"You know I hate Lizzie. You know she's bad for you, that it's bad for the team for you to be involved with her."

"I don't see why it's any of your business!"

"You don't, do you?" With that, he stomped off to the kitchen leaving One in the ring alone. 

That evening, Nigel curled up in his bed. Since he'd grown too tall for his bulldozer perch, he'd taken to sleeping in a normal-style bed. As soon as they'd become teenagers, their parents started to express concern that 'developing' boys and girls were constantly sleeping in the same tree house. After all, they weren't kids anymore. But the operatives all insisted on the importance of constant 'study sessions' to maintain their impeccable grades. Reluctantly, their parents continued to let them continue the behavior of their childhoods, spending most every night together in their tree house. 

No sooner had Nigel fallen asleep than a crack of thunder woke him again. Irritable, he sat in bed listening to the storm. A curious little whimper seeped through the floor of the room above him. He wasn't sure if what he'd heard was the sighing of the wood as the tree house rocked a bit in the storm, or something else. Grabbing a flashlight from his desk drawn, wrapping a blanket around himself and pushing his prescription sun glasses onto his nose, he went up to investigate. Before he knew what was doing, he was scaling the ladder to Four's boxing ring. The room was above his, but why would any noise be coming from it?

Four was huddled in a corner, blanket wrapped around him, shivering a bit.

"Cold?" He asked

"A bit," Wallabee whispered, audible in the silence of the night, punctured only by the cracking of the thunder. "I hate storms. When I was little, it never rained except when it was about to flood. Everyone had to get to high ground, and you could never get to the animals in time. They died during the storms, and you could hear them drowning. I can't swim. Once I tried to go back for my dog, and I nearly- mom got me out, though."

Nigel padded over. "You're not going to drown. I'm here. You'll be safe."

"I know," Wallabee whispered. Nigel arranged the blankets over them both. Four slid his hands under the blankets, under Nigel's pajama's and against his skin. Nigel gasped a bit, then brought Four down into the nest of covers, hands tangling in his silky blond hair. Four leaned up into his touch, kissing him soundly and plucking at the drawstrings of his pajama bottoms. "I know" he whispered again. He grasped what he found there, giving it a few solid pumps. 

"I love you," Wallabee whispered up at him, green eyes clear in a sudden lightening flash. One, shuddering and gasping, repeated it until he woke. He found himself drenched in sweat, tangled in his soiled bed sheets, and woefully alone.


	6. mission

[A/N] sorry for the lateness of the chapter - Tea and i have been AP testing! also many kisses to our beautiful beta Schiz. anyway, enjoy! - scone

**ish chapter 6 M.I.S.S.I.O.N. Mad, irritated students survey & invade official's neighborhood **

Nigel stared at the ceiling and heard the door creak as it opened just a bit.

"I think you should come see this," Four said from the doorway. His slender frame, in cotton pajama bottoms and a muscle shirt, was silhouetted. His normally short shadow stretched grotesquely in the doorway's elongated light on the floor. The shadow's thin, el Greco style head rested nearly parallel to Nigel's. One was feverishly glad he was nearly invisible in the un-illuminated patch of the room. He was sure he'd have an expression of shame and self-loathing that would have to be explained, and he couldn't explain, not when those bright eyes still hovered above his own and his dreamed declaration sat hollow, unspoken in his throat. Schooling his features, he stood and grabbed his glasses, throwing his dressing gown on over his pajamas.

"Did Kuki make exploding pancake batter again? The Fire Marshal's still aggravated about last time…" One mumbled as he dragged himself after Four to the main kitchen.

"I wish." Four muttered back. Four's gravity alerted One that something was wrong- the Australian was rarely this severe, especially when he first woke up. Wallabee was a disgustingly cheerful morning person, energized by the night's sleep and irritating as hell to those who woke up and just wanted to roll over and sleep some more. Nigel was a solid member of the second group. However, he didn't think he would mind mornings so much if he woke up with Wally to cheer him-- shit. Nine a.m. and whatever this was kicked in. Maybe it was National Beat Nigel Week, and his id had jumped on the bandwagon.

Nigel woke up a bit more at the sound of Kuki's loud sobbing in the kitchen. He ran, passing Four, to see what was causing the commotion. Five was staring at the TV on the counter with disgust. Hoagie looked absolutely befuddled, much like he would have if Cree had showed up and begged for a date, only this expression showcased a total lack of pleasure. Four, when he came in, rubbed in small circles on Three's back. She shook him off rather rudely to look up at a confused One. "I was going to get my license in a week! My mom was going to get me a hybrid bug! In baby blue! Now I won't get behind the wheel of a car until I'm twenty one! Those-- kisama!" She burst into a renewed stream of tears as One winced at the Japanese obscenity.

"Who fucks their mum, now?" Four barged in without a qualm for One's delicacy, seeming to relish Nigel's next little wince. "Tell him all about it, Kuks."

"The DMV," Abby interrupted, explaining when it was clear that Kuki wasn't going to be able to stop crying long enough to explain. "In their 'wisdom,' has decided that no new licenses will be issued to anyone under twenty one."

"If you're just joining us," A pretty Chinese American woman announced, brushing back a strand of hair and trying too hard to look professional, "In a landmark decision, the county's DMV has taken the state legislature's mandate that each district determine it's own regulations about licensing conditions to a revolutionary new level. In response to high teen accident rates, irresponsible behavior on the part of minors and a driving while under the influence conviction rate higher than the national average, the director of the local DMV has decided to take a stand _against_ irresponsibility and _for_ safety."

The screen flashed to a prerecorded news conference with said Director. The man's old fashioned seersucker suit clung unpleasantly in the Can Francisco heat and humidity to his fat little body. His face was not one that inspired confidence. It had a snotty little smidgeon of an upturned nose with unpleasantly large nostrils, providing ample view of a rich harvest of nasal hair. He also sported a sad, finely kept little pencil moustache, apparently unaware that Hitler had ruined them for everyone sometime back.

"The notable lack of responsibility exhibited by teenage drivers denotes that they are unready for the privilege of driving," He spoke in a tone that was nearly a sneer. "In addition to not allowing teens to invade the roads, we have worked in collaboration with the local authorities and the state patrolmen to develop a sterner penal code for teen offenders of driving laws. Governor Schwarzenegger has been kind enough to allocate a greater percentage of the budget to law enforcement. Using these funds, we plan to increase the frequency and intensity of police surveillance on the streets. Though it is impossible to retroactively cancel the licenses already issued to teenagers, we'll do our best to catch them in the act."

"Shocked and appalled, eh mate?" Four asked, already knowing the answer.

"This burns AND stings." One agreed. "Why would they do anything so blatantly stupid?" He paused a moment, "Wait, forgot, they're adults."

"Adults who voted in Schwarzenegger," Abby muttered. "After that, we should expect som'thin' this stupid. Surprised it ain't happened before now."

"What are we waiting for?" Two yelled, already grabbing his jacket and throwing it on over his Rocky and Bullwinkle pajamas. "I'm not sitting around and letting them steal my wheels!"

"You have wings if they do," One pointed out, "But you're right. There's not a moment to loose. This is it, guys, the mission we've been waiting on for weeks! A true chance to fight injustice!" One practically began salivating. His eyes shone with glee. "Teens Next Door- CLOTHE YOURSELVES!"

They rushed to carry out his order. A few minutes later, Four hopped into the garage, struggling to pull his hoodie down over his black t-shirt and shove his remaining foot into a sneaker simultaneously. One, always a speedy dresser due to how little primping he did (it's hard to primp with no hair), waited for him and the other in the shuttle.

"About last night," Four began, attempting to apologize for being intrusive and intentionally nasty about Lizzie.

"No time!" One said cheerfully, running through the preflight checklist. "Besides, already forgotten." He wanted to avoid the entire question. Four's behavior was rude, but One's thoughts were so far beyond acceptable that his guilt far overpowered his anger with his friend.

"Right," Four smiled amicably, slipping behind the weapons console.

Within a minute, the team was assembled. The ride to the DMV was lightening-quick. Disembarking from the shuttle, the team rushed the doors.

Unlocking the safety on his ray gun as he ran, Nigel watched with pride as the team covered the entrance. "Teens Next Door," he began with an enthusiasm he rapidly lost as he looked around, "Battle stations?" he finished in a quiet mutter.

Queues of ungodly size stretched from the long line of front desk. Like the tentacles of a gigantic bureaucratic octopus, the lines coiled and moved with incredible slowness.

"It's awful," Four muttered, glancing around with terror in his eyes. Coming from a nation of outlaws and growing up in the middle of the outback, nothing scared him more than organized government- especially the prospect of standing in line, just WAITING for it to get you! "Like an undercooked waffle. It's mad, so bad, makes me sad- makes-"

"Get a hold of yourself Four!" One shook him, snapping him out of the rhyming fit he succumbed to when especially disturbed. "They can't overcome the TND. We'll wait in their line. Oh, we'll wait! And when we're done waiting, they'll pay for their obstruction of my civil liberties. They'll pay for disturbing my Saturday morning. They'll ALL PAY!"

"Can't we just call in the ACLU?" Four asked as One dragged him closer, closer to the dreaded line. He attempted to grab the rope that partitioned the lines as he passed it, hoping to save himself by any means necessary, but just ended up dragging it after him.

One's superior strength won out, and the team, complete with Wally, joined the human mass. To quell Four's continued squirming; One hit him where it hurt. "Is Wallabee Beatles letting the ACLU fight his battles when there's ass just asking to be kicked? Is Wallabee such a coward he wants appeals court to punish the unrighteous?" This infuriated Four. His jaw dropped, and he abruptly about faced, glaring at the bodies ahead of him, the picture of contained rage.

"I'll wait." Wallabee muttered. "I'll be the best waiter ever, I will. And then I'll claw out the guts of the line-partitioning bastards. With my teeth."

One beamed. "That's the spirit, Four!"

And so they waited.

It was an hour and a half later when Numbah Five announced she was ashamed of their periodical selection. "Where be a sistah's Week? Where be her Cosmo, her Weekly World News? Hell, where be her High Times?"

"Popular Science would be appreciated," Two agreed. "Or Discovery. This National Geographic is older than my dad!"

Three, who had been playing cat's cradle with her shoelace, looked up. "I'm bored, too" she announced.

"Numbah One, why don't we just go to the front? We's gonna kick their asses anyway. Numbah Five's gettin' a leg cramp here."

One gritted his teeth. "All these people in line have to suffer the nonsense of this agency as well, Team. It's like butting to the front of a line of starving people waiting for bread- immoral, cruel and-"

"Kinda funny?" Four interrupted with a bored tone. He was still starring in front of him, determined to prove to One his courage was more than just talk. This was a personal fight- him and the line. Loyalty to One was winning out over his desire to break and shoot his way to the front- but only just.

One shot him a look, which then softened. "Thank you for your patience, Four. I know this goes against your instincts."

"Yeah, yeah," Four grunted, eyes boring holes in the back of the man in front of him.

After another half an hour, the team finally reached the counter. An aged woman with a beehive failed to acknowledge their presence. "We're here," Nigel began, only to be cut off.

"Three forms of ID." She grunted, aimlessly shuffling papers.

"Three? But why? And isn't three a bit excessive?" Nigel asked, confused. Abigail shuffled through her documents. "Here's my birth certificate." She pushed it under the woman's nose. The woman sniffed. "This isn't in English, dearie. You'll have to get it translated and notarized." Five gaped.

"Give me permission, One," Four grunted. He was staring at the woman with an expression of intense hate.

"I think you're right. We've played this game long enough. Teens Next Door!" They snapped to attention. "BATTLE STATIONS!" Four, suddenly releasing hours of suppressed rage, let out a scream and threw himself over the partition that separated the Civil Servant from the civilians. The carnage of scattered papers and flying staplers was a terrific sight. Following his lead, the team stormed the partition, cast themselves over it, and took the trench. Knocking out the disaffected office workers in the first line of defense, they roared on into the belly of the beast, onwards towards the office of The Damned Director.


	7. fez

**Chapter 7   
F.E.Z. (fearsome elderly zoom)**

Confronted by the main lobby's security camera, One pursed his lips in thought. Within a moment, his expression cleared into a smile. "Five and Three, get over here. We have to take out these security systems."

Three, the perennial photography geek, typically included a camera in her mission bag for various occasions on which it might be useful. She stood on Five's shoulders and took a Polaroid picture from the camera's height of the room. Sticking the photo onto the lens with a bit of Hoagie's gum, they continued their hunt for the Damned Director. 

"That ought to hold them for a few minutes." Nigel said smugly. Indeed it did. The Director, monitoring from his inner sanctum, had been in the bathroom perusing the San Francisco Chronicle during the actual attack. When he returned, he found a monitor that showed lines as usual; that is, moving so slowly they might almost appear to be stationary. It took him about ten minutes to figure out that this line was too static, even for the DMV. He couldn't see the employees jumping up and down disaffectedly in front of the camera, trying to inform him of a major security breach.

Further in, the TND toppled a youngish woman named Mildred, returning from the coffee dispenser. Their total ignorance of the building's topography didn't prevent them from running headlong into the every room. They just assumed each was the one they were looking for and set about storming the castle.

Mildred, the Damned Director's secretary, or Personal Assistant, as she liked to style herself, had attempted to stick to the wall in the face of the approaching youthful herd, but to no avail- the moment the heel of her nondescript cream-colored pump caught the frayed edge of Four's jeans, all was lost. She flipped until she was nearly horizontal in the air. The full-to-the-brim coffee pot she'd been carefully conveying to her boss had smacked into the ceiling above her, sending a spray of glass down that narrowly missed injuring Mildred. The coffee it had contained was, however, another story. Like fiery hot, nasty rain it cascaded from the sky, bathing Mildred, coating her with a sticky brown veneer. The TND were long gone by the time the Java Explosion obeyed the laws of gravity. Drenched, her satin blouse shriveled a bit. Mildred dragged her sticky, soggy body down the secret passage to her Master's Domain.

After dragging herself down the hall, her palm smacked a waist high red button. A door opened, revealing the back of an enormous chair and the top of a head. "Sir," Mildred clutched the doorframe, "I've been… violated!"

The head did not stir. "If it was in the break room I hope you cleaned up after-- we can't have another janitor quit on us."

"No, sir. I was attacked; I nearly died; I was scalded, sir!"

"So?" He persisted.

"Sir, I was scalded by… your coffee. They spilled it, sir." She stammered, continuing in an even weaker voice. "They spilled all of your coffee, sir-- every good-to-the-last-drop."

Slowly, the chair spun to face the door and the Scalded Secretary. "Mildred, they will pay. This will be a day of BLOOD. A SATURDAY OF BLOOD!" He panted with fury. "Send forth…my SHRINERS!"

And so a sopping Mildred went to carry out his dread plan.

"Do you have any idea where we're goin'?" Four asked as his team mates randomly barged into another room- this time apparently a storage facility for confiscated undercarriage lights and fuzzy dice. Five paused only to grab the best of each, in order to pimp out her truck with them.

"To the center of the base, obviously." One answered. "No matter how long it takes us. Revenge is a dish best served-- eventually. Next room!"

Two suddenly became aware of the low whirl of tiny wheels. "Guys! Guys, I think we're gonna have company!"

The team turned around, Abby closing the door to the latest room (reserved for confiscated car eight-track players) behind them.

Suddenly, the roar grew much louder, and an army of grown men in very tiny cars ripped around the corner. The cars were impressively decorated with flames, skulls and crossed bones, and one sentimental 'Mom' in a heart. The men wore diminutive maroon fezzes, and their faces were etched with fury-- Shriner Fury. They came to a stop with a screech.

The man in the tiniest car, decked out in a ridiculously large motorcycle jacket, squeaked the car's tiny horn threateningly. One got the impression that, had it been possible, he would have revved his microscopic engine. "The Hell's Angels Shriners challenge you intruders to… (and here he squeaked the horn again, somehow more threateningly) A RUMBLE!"

One raised an eyebrow. "You have GOT to be kidding."

The man honked in response. "We only joke about pulled fingers, boy. Do you twerps accept our challenge?"

"Oh, we accept alright," Four countered back, trying not to guffaw, "What are you gonna do, squeak us to death?"

"I agree," One added. "As you gangstas would say, it's on."

Five groaned and smacked her forehead. "Aw, man! That's lamer than Numbuh Two's lines. You's doin' it all wrong."

"Actually," The Shriner began, twisting his fez to the backward position (though with a fez, that's hard to tell), "We're gonna run you into the ground. Shriners, ATTACK!" At his command, the tiny cars massed forward, intent on overtaking the teenagers.

"TND, Attack!" One commanded, running into the fray, followed by his team. They were almost knocked over by a hairy man in leather chaps, but Four, tackled him and sent the car swerving off into the wall.

"Cool! Fun!" Three cried and jumped atop another car, bouncing to avoid its driver's panicked swipes.As the Teens scattered among the cars, One spotted the Head Shriner circling the group and making strategic jabs at the otherwise engaged operatives. Jumping over a pair of midgets in a single car, he landed solidly on the painted flame-covered hood. "Hold it right there," he directed.

"You want to take me on?" The man laughed. "Okay, brat, let's go!" 

Sending his car into a spin, he aimed a punch at Nigel's face. The young man ducked, kicking out at the older man's head. The Hell's Angel Shriner, however, suddenly applied his breaks, nearly causing One to lose his balance. One's kick went much too high, and his foot connected not with the intended Shriner skull, but the maroon fez instead. 

Both opponents watched, almost transfixed, as the fez spun through the air, as if in slow motion, only to land under the wheels of another tiny car. As the car moved forward in the heat of battle, it crushed the tiny fez beyond recognition. 

"NO!" The Shriner screamed, aghast. He grabbed his skull as it seemed to shake. 

"Lost-- powers! Lost Shriner skillz! Lost English ability! Noooooooo!" The man withered. 

"Team, their weakness is the fez! Go for the fez!" Bemused, Three flicked the fez off of her opponent and crushed it under her heel, leaving him a screaming, sniveling wreck, who abandoned the fight almost instantly. The rest of the team took note and copied her. 

Grabbing the lead Shriner under his arms, One wrenched him out of the tiny car, pinning him down on the floor. 

"Where's his office? Where's your Director? Talk, or the tiny transmission gets it!" 

The Shriner sobbed. "It's too late for me now, to late for all of us- and our tasteful fezzes. He's down that hallway, in the door marked Women's Restroom." Abandoning his victim, One ordered the team to clean up the last of the opposition. The others finished up and followed One into the Women's Restroom, Numbuh Four wearing a pair of miniature fuzzy dice around his wrist like the spoils of war. 

Behind the deceptive door, One blinked to adjust his eyes to the dark quickly. The glow from the black and white monitors contrasted sharply with the utter blackness of the rest of room. A baroque, high-backed chair dominated the area. Wordlessly, the agents examined the room as best they could to determine if the man in the chair had accomplices and readied their shots in case he resisted. 

"Archibald McQuinn, Director of the Bay Area DMV?" One asked in a tight, frigid voice. 

Slowly, the chair turned. In the screen's glow, they could just make out the wet shimmer of his eyes and the bristle of his sad moustache. 

"That's correct, Mr. Uno, of the second class intermediate license with restrictions for eyesight. You've defeated my mighty Shriners and penetrated my lair-- but, in search of what? " 

"That's Numbuh One to you!" Nigel spat, irritated that his team was again reminded that the sunglasses weren't just an addition to his already immense coolness. One of these days, they might even put two and two together and recognize him as the gigantic nerd he was. He hoped that day was far in the future-- say, post grad school.

"I'm charging you with crimes against the teens of the Bay Area! Your despicably loose interpretation of your duties is not only offensive and unfair, it demonstrates a lack of respect for your fellow drivers. Have you even seen a sixty-seven year old swerve into the bike lane? Have you?! How DARE you deny licenses to teens in the face of that kind of idiocy?" He snarled with disgust. "Having said that, I feel it necessary to remind you that we are not without recourse. In addition to your money laundering, I am obliged to inform you that we are fully aware of your dealings with… Mr. Fluffles."

"We are?" Five muttered, inaudibly. 

"I don't think we want to know," Four said with assurance. 

The Damned Director's eyes bulged, but with admirable control, he narrowed them again quickly. "You know nothing! You have no evidence to speak of! Who would believe you, even if you told the world? Who would ever believe a sixteen year old?" 

"Seventeen," Nigel corrected primly. "And everyone, if he has a paper trail for the skimming of public funds and photographic evidence to demonstrate… your other activities. You have a good job that you don't deserve, and an attractive young wife whom you also don't deserve. Are you willing to lose both over petty personal bigotry?" 

The man winced. Nigel smiled slowly, maliciously. "I thought not. So here's what you'll be doing: you'll immediately pick up the phone, dial the news stations and explain how terribly wrong you were, and that a public apology to the teens of the Bay is in order. Then you'll give it." His voice began to drip with malice, "And every word of it, no matter how your soul seethes, will be delivered with a smile. Then you'll change your idiotic law, explain to your superiors what an error of judgment it was, and tell the law enforcement that their thoughtful cooperation in cracking down on teens is no longer necessary." 

"Is that all?" The man asked sarcastically, rubbing his hands on the armrests in a way that suggested suppressed rage. 

"As a matter of fact," Nigel countered in an unnaturally cheery tone, "it isn't. You've ruined our perfectly good Saturday, and made an innocent girl cry. As compensation, you'll hand her a license here and now, shake her hand, and send her out into the wide, driving world." 

"But she hasn't even taken a test!" The Damned Director protested. 

One's voice lost all amiability as he snarled, "NOW." 

And so ten minutes later a gleeful Kuki Sanban danced out of the DMV in front of her friends. She spun around the parking lot, brimming with unbridled joy. 

"Good thinking," Two muttered to One. "She'd never 'ave gotten a license on her own-- she couldn't have passed the test, not in a thousand years. She can't even drive a massive bunny robot well enough to dodge giant turnip roots." One blinked, wondering what this had to do with ability to navigate the roads, but decided not to say anything to Two, for whom all driving was one homogenous art of combat. 

"And thanks for the motorcycle licenses!" Four said in awe. 

"Yeah," Five grinned, "Now Five can arrive in even more style." 

"Oh, all in a days work," One said smugly. "I couldn't have done it without the help of my team." 

"What I don't get," Four said meditatively as they walked to the plane, "Is how you knew all that dirt on that cat's piss Director in advance? I mean, it's bottler that you did, but when did you get a chance to read up on the bloke?" 

One smiled at his bemused best friend fondly. "In response to possible threats on teen rights, I've compiled a database of likely offenders, their histories, their danger rating and their weaknesses. It's been the work of several months-- this has just been the first opportunity to make use of it." He grinned. "I have to say it came off splendidly." 

Four felt a pang of guilt for having indulged in thoughts about One's deficiency as a leader the previous night. 

"Boss?" He began as One climbed into the passenger seat. Nigel looked over his shoulder at him. 

"Yes?" Nigel asked. 

"You're- you're a phenomenal team leader, and we really all lucked out to be stationed under such a great guy as well as an incredible commander." Wally swallowed the thump in his throat, embarrassed. "An' that's all." He slid into the back seat. 

One was touched as his other team members agreed or, in Abby's case, nodded judiciously. "Thanks guys. I wouldn't be a good leader if you weren't a phenomenal team." 

"Enough mush, let's get home and get some lunch! I'm starvin'!" Four barked. 

"I'll drive!" Kuki shouted enthusiastically, grabbing the keys from Hoagie's hand and racing to the driver's seat. 

"Are, are you sure?" Hoagie stammered, trying not to show his terror at the prospect of Kuki behind the wheel. 

"Positive!" Kuki shrieked. In mute horror, the team buckled in and prepared for the most… exciting ride of their lives.

…poor plane 


	8. pounce

Chapter 8

When the plane touched down, Four hurled himself out of it like a bat out of hell. One promptly rolled into the grass and dry heaved-- if he'd had any breakfast, it would have been a messy situation. Five held on to her equilibrium-- but only barley. Two, seasoned pilot and daredevil of the air, reevaluated his personal concept of physical pain. Kuki's driving was awe inspiring in its swiftness and lack of regard for law, personal safety or the laws of physics.

"New Teens Next Door rule," One announced from his position on his hands and knees in the grass. "Kuki may never fly the plane-- she is allowed to drive, but only when accompanied by two or more members. One of the two can watch Kuki, the other can watch out for pedestrians."

"Aw, Numbuh One!" Three complained, still too merry to sound very serious about it, "It wasn't that bad!"

"Yes, it was. In fact, it was worse." Nigel stated firmly.

"But I've never had so much fun! I can't _wait_ to drive us to school on Monday!" Kuki's eyes glazed with joy.

"The bloody hell you will!" Nigel muttered, using the profanity he rarely employed in his agony at the thought.

The team ate a lunch of nachos and microwave popcorn to restore their lost strength, with Nigel and Kuki enjoying a spot of tea and Wallabee attempting to microwave the Vegemite and pour it on his popcorn as a topping (cursing when the goop refused to leave its jar, much to the team's relief, as they couldn't imagine anything more disgusting).  Afterward, they all sat in the command center and took up their controllers for a rousing game of Mario Party. After about two hours of Kuki's nagging, Five smacked her controller down on the couch cushion.

"Five can't _stand_ to hear an Asian woman whine! If you want to joyride, Five'll go with you. Maybe if you crash Numbuh Five's sad-ass Ford, she can buy somethin' new and sah-weet!" She grabbed her jacket and fumbled for her keys in her pockets.

"But what if I do crash it?" Kuki said, displaying rare realism. "How will we get home?"

Two scrambled out of his seat. "I'll come with you. The two-by-four tech is not your forte. I, however, know how to save our asses when we inevitably wind up in a ditch. Let me get my toolbox and some parts; go wait in the car, okay?"

As Two, Three, and Five, tromped out of the room, Four couldn't resist throwing a quick glance over at One, who was studiously observing Luigi (following Sun Tzu's advice that one should know one's enemy). He blinked and scowled as he realized the bad pun in there.

A night alone in the Treehouse with his best friend/object of obsession. It wasn't like it hadn't happened before, say, when Three went to see the latest Rainbow Monkeys movies and whined until Two and Five came along (no amount of persuasion, however, could budge Four, or 'I'm ALWAYS too busy!' One). Even though it had happened before, and happened while he had a thing for One-- he couldn't really remember when he hadn't had a thing for One, in some incarnation or another-- this time had an aura of importance. Four knew he might be being overdramatic, but he was an intuitive person who usually survived and won fights by trusting his instincts. Right now, his subconscious was warning him to expect big things from tonight, and he heeded it and filed that information away.

"Four, c'mere a sec," Five called from the doorway of the TND garage (a recent addition-- One's sixteenth birthday present from Two, in fact). Reluctantly, Four dug himself out of the couch. It was the kind people sank into- the kind that claimed keys and hamsters, the kind into which comic books disappeared and were never seen again. Four walked over to Five. "What did you need me to come all the way over here for? I was comfy!"

"Sitting six feet away from One? I'll bet. Now, when you sit back down, you have an excuse to sit closer. But Five didn't counteract your comfort to talk about this Junior High stuff. Five's gonna keep the gang occupied tonight. You have until morning to go for it."

Four pretended not to understand, even as the blush marched over his fair cheeks like an invading army. "Err, dunno what you're suggesting! We're gonna play video games long into the night and avoid discussing Lizzie for the prevention of domestic violence. You know, guy stuff. Straight up old guys stuff. The kind just plain old buds do--"

Five's open palm connected solidly with the side Four's babbling head. "Sometimes, you so stupid Five dunno why she even bother. If Five don't arrive home tomorrow morning to find two less uptight team members lying in a pool of things unmentionable, she'll not only be surprised, she'll be damned disappointed." Her eyes narrowed. "And you know how Five don't like gettin' disappointed." She slammed the door, then, as an afterthought, reopened it. "Condoms in my top drawer; lube in the bathroom on the sink; and various other related items in the black box under the bed. Numbuh Five likes to keep it clean and safe. Good luck!"

She left him there, flabbergasted at her bluntness, a bit horrified, and very much intrigued by the possibilities she laid before him. He glanced over at his best friend, too absorbed in contemplation of Luigi to have heard anything. Four sighed deeply. No way in hell did he have the courage to tell One how much he affected him, much less… more blushing ensued.

It was midnight before Luigi was soundly thrashed. Wallabee and Nigel crowed with delight as they vanquished the infuriatingly smug, green-garbed Italian.

"Why's he smiling like he's all that?" Four had groused earlier. "'E's a bally plumber. If I were a plumber, I would realize that I didn't get no smirkin' rights."

"He's smiling," One replied through grit teeth, "because he's kicking our asses. Gah! Damn!" He wailed in frustration as Luigi's team won another mini-game.

But now the game had been turned off in favor of talking. One and Four sat up in opposite corners of the couch, legs stretched out. '_Nearly touching_,' Four thought a trifle nervously.

"I don't see why you're so anxious to go back to England after high school," Four complained. "Miserable, rainy, cold, nastier food than even what's in the school cafeteria- what's wrong with staying in California?"

One rolled his head on his neck to relieve the crick in his spine. "If I go to a California school, that means Berkley. How lame is it to go somewhere your dad teaches? _There's_ a lot of opportunities to live the wild life."

Four snorted. "To you, living the wild life is six back to back missions, extra chemistry homework and spicing things up by drinking oolong instead of Darjeeling. You couldn't be wild if you tried!"

One pushed his sunglasses a bit down his nose to give his friend an amused glare. "I'm tame? This from the guy who, if I recall, was thoroughly bested by me during the Boyfriend Helmet episode."

"Rub it in, why don't you?"

The phrase hit Nigel interestingly. "I intend to," he muttered, nearly to himself. "Besides," he brightened, "It's not like I'm going into no-man's-land; I mean, you'll be at Oxford with me--"

"What? When was this?"

Nigel blinked, a bit confused. "Well, I just assumed. You've kept up a great academic record, and if we start reviewing for A levels, there'll be no problem passing with flying colors. You're captain of the wresting team and head of the debate team-- why wouldn't you get in?"

"It's not a matter of getting in-- I never said I wanted to go in the first place!"

Wally was getting severely irritated. Nigel's constant assumption that he would perpetually be around as his sidekick-- dependable and thus uninteresting, really unmanned him. The fact that Nigel was dead right pissed him off even more, but Wally wasn't about to let the facts get in the way of a good argument.

Nigel was aghast. "You're being ridiculous! Look, if you really have a preference, we can talk about going somewhere else, but really, I didn't think you did! Forgive me for assuming that your disdain for academia stopped at this point."

"I'm not mad about flipping Oxford-- I'm mad because you think I'm going to go wherever you tell me, like I'll always be your dog on a very tight leash!"

And wasn't that an interesting image? Nigel thought before pushing it away completely, embarrassed of his own thoughts.

"You completely take me for granted!" Wally continued the long penned-up rant.

"So what then, you're going to suddenly pick up sticks and leave me alone? How could you-- why in God's name would you do that?" Nigel's tone became off, even a bit panicked. "Why would you want to part, Four? Are you unhappy? Did I do anything?"

"Don't 'Four' me in that pathetic tone," Wallabee snapped, specifically to hurt the other boy's feelings. "Did you do anything? Constantly ignoring me isn't enough? Dating someone I tell you I don't like, constantly-- Christ, what do you have to do before you realize you're being cruel! You're so clever, why don't you _get_ anything?" Wallabee was so furious he shook a bit.

It was so very wretched of One, to be so oblivious that it seemed almost intentional, to be so much his friend that he missed all the clear subtext. _I don't want to be your **friend**_, Wally thought with sudden welling disgust, _I want to be your **everything**. I want you to want to throw me down and take me, to have me forever, but **not** just 'around,' **not** just as something comforting and predictable_. Why didn't Nigel need Wally half as much as Wally needed him?

There was a fundamental inequality in their relationship. Nigel wanted his girlfriend, wanted his career, wanted a well-planned out future. All Wally wanted was Nigel. He wanted everything Nigel had to give, true, but where Nigel's concerns encompassed the world, Wally's were limited and intensified. It was so heartbreakingly unfair that Wally could almost strangle Nigel for somehow doing this to him, except that he knew if he touched the other boy he wouldn't stop until he'd done something irreversible and stupid.

"I never ignore you-- I value you highly!" One was dumbstruck. He didn't try to hurt Four, not ever. He-- he damn-near adored him! He couldn't understand; it wasn't like Wally to be so evasive, so patently unfair. Nigel would never try to hurt his best friend, the person he most… cared about in all the world. Surely Wally knew that?

"What in hell don't I _get_?"

"This!"

And then Wallabee Beatles reared and slammed into Nigel, knocking into him before he really had a chance to defend himself, pinning One's arms above his head with such ease it was as if Four had practiced the very move a thousand times, and smashing his lips into those of the prone boy below him.

_'Oh_,' thought Nigel with odd clarity, '_that_.'

Four kissed him desperately. If he got one kiss, it would be a _damn_ good one. He tried to express everything he'd felt, to bring to bear all the pressure of the long wait in that one embrace, but found it too confining, kissing Nigel again and again to better articulate. It was in this process he found his kisses being reciprocated. He was so caught up in trying to make Nigel know everything before he had to face the boy's confusion and disdain, so wrapped up in his own angst, that initially he didn't notice.

Nigel, always stronger and more skillful in the martial arts, easily freed his arms out from under the pinning hands of the distracted boy.

_No_, Wallabee thought, horrified, as Nigel tried to push him off, _nonononono, it wasn't NEAR long enough, and now that I had a chance, I still want what I wanted before, only more!_

"Wallabee," Nigel panted, breathless, looking up into the other boy's earnest, frightened face, brushing a soft, blonde strand that had loosed itself from the bowl cut, away from Four's eyes, "Four," he continued, a bit stronger, "Don't do this--"

And Four felt his stomach tighten and drop, his world fall away, rushing past him--

"Don't do this unless you're sure." Nigel continued. "Because I'm sure. Wallabee. I-- I love you." He gulped and repeated himself. "I love you, and, and I want you, and if you don't, if you just want-- then I don't want to do it on those terms--"

"Nigel," Four dove down and slipped his tongue behind the still moving lips, "Bloody idiot," he concluded when he came up for air, "I can't even remember not loving you. Are you going to warble on, or will you get off the moral high horse, come down here and fuck me."

Nigel smiled blindingly. "I can think of nothing I'd like better."

"Mm. Then get on with it." Four's impatience was palpable. He hated waiting; he was a man of action. Rather, a horny teenage boy of action whose body sprang into action at the slightest provocation-- and it had been plenty provoked right now.

And because Nigel was, likewise, a hormonal young man with a long courtship to consummate, flipped his teammate over and grinned like the Cheshire cat. "With pleasure," he concluded, slipping down Wallabee's eagerly arching body with a smile.


	9. nine

Chapter 9: N.I.N.E. (Nubile, Interesting Naked Entertainment)

A/N: WE HAVE FIXED THE LINKS

Okay- first, a colossal apology to the good people that read us for the MONUMENTAL lateness of the post. We had some RL drama with graduating and taking a long vacation/hiatus (this chapter was written largely on planes, trains, and automobiles), and then Teakettle drove off to start college. We had some Silly!Internet!Drahma (Scone's personal word for things too inherently ridiculous to actually be classified as real drama) involving Teakettle's first flame war and angry, angry people who think Dan Brown's work is the pinnacle of English literature. If Harold Bloom shows up on their doorsteps, full of indignant Literature!Rage to sexually harass them, as is his wont, it is simple justice. But needless to say, we have survived, and are back to post the PG 13 portion of what we have come to lovingly call 'THE SEX Chapter.' If you want the full, unedited version, go here:

http : www . livejournal . com / community / kndfic / 1408 . html#cutid1

(Remove the spaces from that. Sorry to break it up, FFN is just not big on the posting of the URLs, but we figure this is the lesser of the two evils when compared with screwing with their no tolerance rating policy.)

"Not that I'm complaining," Four said as he clamped his short legs tighter around One's waist as the two shuffled across the living room awkwardly, aiming for Nigel's bedroom door, "but this is a rather sudden and unexpected coming about. You're not going to 'deny me in the morning' and all that, are you?" Wally punctuated the somewhat anxious question with a chaste peck, at odds with his simultaneous grinding against the other boy, who stumbled a bit and let out a startled gasp. If Wally had anything to say about it, Nigel would be so tired from the night's activities he wouldn't be able to get up in the morning, and Wally intended to leave some pretty tangible, undeniable physical evidence as collateral.

Nigel capitalized on the kiss, worrying Wally's lower lip gently with his lips and tongue. Thus his "Not really, and not a chance," came out somewhat muffled, and he had to relinquish the object of his oral fixation in order to repeat himself clearly.

"Haven't I told you before?" Nigel grinned. "I'm a man of action."

Four repeated his earlier grind, sensing the 'action' that generated. "I see," he repeated with a mocking, over the top syrupy tone to his voice. "And here I thought you were a man of intense repression and heterosexual action," he snarked.

"Err, yes." One blushed, "But then I was knocked senseless by emotional epiphany." Nigel set Wally down on the bed, but remained standing. Wally scrambled up onto his knees, in lithe, wiggling movements that shot little tendrils of lust pulsating through Nigel's body. The normal intensity of Wally's green eyes was muted as he gazed up through his thick fringe of lashes at his commander.

"A Commander is chosen for the position because the individual in question possesses the ability to access risks and formulate a strategy in a split second. When faced with the risk of loosing you someday- to another person, who would replace me in your priorities, to the different paths our lives could take, it became clear to me that such a risk was totally unacceptable." One pulled off his glasses slowly, revealing a tense, vulnerable expression. With slow, absurd precision he folded them and laid them neatly on the bedside table.

"All my teammates are my friends, and I love them dearly. But if the team should drift apart, I can see how my life might still manage to be rewarding and happy, even if we were no longer important to each other." Nigel sat down on the bed beside Four, who swiveled to face him. "You aren't…" One gulped, "You're not expendable. I love our friends… but I need you. And," he blushed, "And I want you. Everything you do is charming, and amusing and special to me."

Nigel ran a tentative palm along Wally's downy, warm cheek, noting absently that his friend hadn't yet begun to shave. The smoothness of the flesh was tempting, and his hand slipped almost unbidden to the sensitive nape of Four's neck. Four let out a sweet, obliging little whimper of response, eyes fixed on One's. One dropped his over-eager hand, and began again. He felt he had to explain himself properly.

"For a long time now, we've been best friends. I've loved you in a way that's comfortable and perfect. Tonight, when I really thought about the future, I knew that indecision and denial were just wasting our time. What we have is so _good_. How could anything that deepened, prolonged it not be right?"

Four's face was flushed blood red with embarrassment. "You- you decided this in a few minutes on the couch?" He stammered jokingly to cover how touched he felt.

"I've been deciding it for years, Four." Nigel corrected, putting gentle pressure on Wally's shoulder to encourage him to lie down. Four complied almost without realizing he was doing so, repositioning himself so as to lie on the bed properly. One rested over the smaller boy's waist, a hand curving under and around one of Wally's pronounced hips possessively. "But the couch was a fantastic catalyst." Nigel smirked down at his soldier. "Perhaps you'd like to try it again and see what else I realize?"

Four's small hand drifted slowly up Nigel's bare arm.

"I've always been the small one," he muttered, eyes on his wandering hand, avoiding Nigel's face, "And the stupid one. All the adults thought so. I frequently felt left out. I never though I was as important to you as Abby, never understood why when anyone paid special attention to me. It made me nervous. I blushed, stammered, looked an idiot. I love you for a million reasons," His eyes finally met Nigel's. "But why would you decide on me? Why-"

Nigel interrupted the Wally's musings with a swooping kiss. One rose again, beginning to work off Four's belt and pull off the boy's top. "Because you're perfect. Because you're loyal. Because you're smarter than people give you credit for, fierce and no-bullshit and funny. Because you're mine." He plucked at Wally's pants and shivered when the other boy lifted those fine hips he so admired to facilitate his ministrations. Nigel's eyes closed as the sharp clicks of the descending zipper, the tab of which he delicately pinched and pulled, were followed by the intimate rasp of denim peeling off soft skin and rough knees, across strong calves to pool at the ankles before being unceremoniously kicked off.

"I'll say it again. I have always valued you beyond all others. You are my best friend. You are the man I love. If you ever find yourself in doubt of your own worth again, come to me, and I'll do all I have to in order to prove it to you."

Wally lacked Nigel's intoxicating, slow deliberation, but he made up for it with excess raw passion. He tore at Nigel's shirt, saying nothing in response to One's declaration, but communicating entirely with his hands. He yanked the red t-shirt over Nigel's head, just missing giving the taller boy whiplash. He ripped at the snaps of Nigel's shorts, growling at the barriers between them, willing the clothes to slide off faster than was physically possible.

He bucked under One, who almost seemed to mewl, and used Nigel's seconds of limp enervation to grab fistfuls of the shorts, working them down around the other boy's sock covered feet.

"God, Wally!"

"Don't talk." Wally hissed. "Just let me get this obnoxious shit off your body."

Nigel couldn't help snickering a bit as he complied. "It's called clothing, Four."

Wally, all business, peeled off One's socks and dispatched with the shorts, tossing them into a dark corner of the room, which was illuminated only by the pool hall light over Nigel's navy bed. In the dark, film-noir lighting, the bedcovers looked black, and Nigel blazed before Four, tan- no, golden. Four ran his tongue across his lips.

"They're called slow torture." He plucked, ever so gently, at the elastic of One's briefs. Wally's expression was suddenly less self-assured- it begged for permission. Nigel's willing smile turned into a lascivious smirk in the dim light. One nodded.

A/N:

Cutoff Point for FFN chapter- that's right, kids. If you're of age for the good stuff (and by good stuff, we mean that which is NC-17), head on over to this address:

http : www . livejournal . com / community / kndfic / 1408 . html#cutid1

(Remove the spaces from that. Sorry to break it up, FFN is just not big on the posting of the URLs, but we figure this is the lesser of the two evils when compared with screwing with their no tolerance rating policy.) The extended version of the chapter is sexier, and on the whole (bad!pun) funnier. However, we don't really want to loose our rating slot, or our FFN accounts, so rather than trying to skirt the notice of the all-seeing censors, we leave it to you the enlightened readers to decide whether you're interested in the Complete Exploits. Regular publishing on FFN will continue as normal, resuming with what comes after the shenanigans. Expect the next chapter in roughly a week. Thanks for reading, guys! Seriously, much love to the people! We're nearly done!


	10. ten and a meanwhile

**meanwhile (a companion piece)**

_{A/N} first of all - **this is not chapter 10**. chapter ten (as it is nc17) can be found at our kndfic community on livejournal right here (remove the spaces between words as always) - livejournal . com / community / kndfic / 2527 . html_

_so, as the last two updates have been very...adult, we decided to give you guys an idea of where the other three TND are, and a nice, (hell, this is PG) safe and sex-free chapter. Me and Teakettle are big supporters of the "Give Numbuh Two some Loving" campaign, so that's kinda in here too._

___finally, we'd like to extend thanks to all the readers who waited patiently through our crappy updating scedule, quick-fixes for , and other assorted problems. seriously, guys, we lurve you all. anyways, enjoy! -scone _

_ Stacey- We totally see what you're saying with Kuki. We decided to address this and the grammer/spelling issues by, once this story is completed, releasing a sort of Master Copy with such mistakes taken care of. Thanks so much for your support! blush Bryony- You got the sex! Just for you! We mention you in a footnote on the NC-17 chapter, so feel loved! Mongoosey- Thanks for reviewing! rin- This is almost done, but there's a sequel in the works. an you STAND the excitment!? Well, you probably can, you're probably stalwart like that, but we know we can't. It's just too exciting for us!!!11! MHVessel- We're keepin'. Thanks for the review, and mad shout outs to you on your own fic writing. Damn girl, you're prolific! Robinrox- Wow, totally flattered! Thanks! Eh, our Kuki needs a bit of work, but we tried. Glad to have a fan of the pairing! Up To No Good- Thanks so much! What kind of actions did you have in mind? Say, bribing us? Cause we're in favor of that! (j/k) zNumbah 3.14- cute name. Scone went Math Nerd on me and chuckled. Thanks so much, happy to have satisfied! _

* * *

You would think, having spent half her life fighting the forces of evil and tyranny, that Numbuh Five wouldn't find riding in an old pickup down a highway to be all that scary. Certainly the pickup was old, with rust holes in the floorboard that revealed nauseating vistas of the fast-moving pavement beneath. Of course the road was a devilishly tricky one, more curves than straight patches, twisting a path of homicidal little zigzags over the California terrain. 

But Five had nerves of pure titanium alloy. She was cooler than all The Blues Brothers put together. She was the embodiment of calm in a crisis. And so normally, she wouldn't have batted her big brown eyes at the most dangerous of journeys. But tonight was special. Numbuh Three was driving, and in the last twenty minutes Five had reorganized her own personal list of things to fear. Gone was the Delightful Dean. Banished was the threat of the Popos cracking down on her for dealing. Cree when she was severely PMSing? Utterly forgotten. In fact, Five had cleared the list completely, and disregarded any sort of ranking system. Three's Driving WAS the list in its entirety.

"Ach, why are all these people so sloow?" Three muttered, swerving the truck into the right lane with about an inch of leeway. Personally, Five didn't think 95 - the highest her speedometer went - was really all that slow. A sinister thought trickled through the back of her brain- was 95 the fastest this truck could go, or the fastest the speedometer could show?

Numbuh Two, meanwhile, was mentally calculating exactly how dead they were going to be if Kuki messed up. If the truck was about 3000kg, and they were going 100 m/h… convert to metric… he shuddered visibly. Very, very dead. He looked over at Five, who was grasping the dashboard so hard her knuckles had turned white.

"Cool! Let's listen to the radio!" The truck swerved yet again as Three bent down to fiddle with the knobs. The honking of drivers around them was suddenly drowned out as The Backstreet Boys filled the cab. Abby shook her head in disgust.

"This ain't right. On so many levels, this just ain't right. Four owes Numbuh Five big time."

Three looked over at her quizzically, causing Two to gasp and grab for the wheel. Ignoring him, the Japanese girl asked, "What does Numbuh Four owe you?"

"Uh, a quarter. Look at the road, girl!"

Another swerve, this time sharp enough to make the taller girl's stomach churn. This wasn't any better than when Three had flown them home earlier. Actually, Five considered, it was worse. There was a lot more on the ground that could be crashed into.

"Oooh, let's get some food!" Kuki exclaimed happily, bringing the truck across three lanes and nearly getting run over by a semi before speeding up the exit ramp.

"Numbuh Three, you have to slow down, we're going to tip-"

But it was too late. There was no way to turn - rather, the old Ford just went barreling across the road and right back off. The radio was joined by panicked screaming. Five would have been hard pressed to tell which sound was more obnoxious. Hitting the incline, they flipped over, and continued rolling down the hill before landing, right side up, in the middle of a field some distance from the highway.

Slowly, the screaming died down. The radio died suddenly as the engine went silent. It was quiet. Five looked at the other two.

"You all alright?" They nodded, wide eyed.

The truck gave a slow shudder and without warning dropped two feet on its tires as the much-abused suspension finally breathed its last.

Hoagie smiled slightly. "It's okay, I can fix that, easy." Abby looked relieved, and Kuki had already started coaxing the radio back to life. The Ford, however, had other ideas.

With a sudden WHAM, the sheet of metal previously serving as the hood flew up in the air accompanied by various parts of what had been the engine. As dozens of nuts, bolts and bits of metal rained down around them, Five just sighed quietly.

"That had better be some damn fine sex."

* * *

"Aww, Numbuh Two, I'm bored." 

Hoagie looked at Kuki incredulously. "You blew up the engine, Three. It's gonna take awhile to fix it. If I can fix it." He held up two small pieces of charred, oddly shaped metal and looked at them thoughtfully. He thought they might be the remains of a gasket of some sort, but in this state it was impossible to tell.

"Oh, stop whinin' and relax, Numbuh Two. Is your brother bringin' those parts?" Five's voice rose, accompanied by a thin trail of smoke, from the bed of the truck where she stretched comfortably.

"Tommy refused to come help a bunch of 'stinky stupid teenagers'." He shook his head. "That whole KND team is worse than One used to be."

"Still is, you mean," Five snorted. Three giggled, stopped to consider, and then gave a hearty sigh.

"I'm still bored."

"Well, since Five won't let us call home for a ride, I guess we're walking home?"

Five pulled herself over the side of the truck bed and looked at them both with a vague irritation. "Can Numbuh Five please finish her joint 'fore everybody goes charging stupidly into the damn woods? Five's seen this movie, she knows the sistah gets killed first once everybody starts runnin' around. This is one sistah who's gonna die relaxed. " She took another drag and smiled at them. "Want some? This is some good stuff."

Two and Three exchanged a wary glance and looked back at the black girl, who had apparently found something very profound in the red paint. Two sighed deeply.

"Great. Just great. We're far from home without our leader, who Five won't let us call, and now his second in command's abandoned her responsibility to get us home safely in favor of getting stoned. Christ, we're probably going to have to spend the night out here until she's recovered."

"We could play chicken with the cars!" Three suggested with a look of manic cheer. She was almost scarily determined to have fun, at times.

"Not and keep all our limbs, we couldn't, and while you missing a few would only keep you out of trouble, I need mine to repair this piece of crud." Even if he had all his parts and tools, Hoagie P. Gilligan had never been so hopelessly befuddled by a mechanical problem. The boy who prided himself on his ability to make anything run, to squeeze that little bit of extra mmph out of something long due for the junk yard, had met his match- an utterly, totally crapped out Ford. He admitted defeat in the face of its complete and total devastation.

"You're such a wiener, Numbuh Two!" Three stuck out her tongue at him. "Car chicken is FUN! Numbuh Four would play with me!"

"Yeah, but in a fight between Four and a semi, I'm really not sure who'd win. In my case, my money's on the man with the wheels." Two jerked his head up in sudden surprise as an idea bloomed. "Three, you're a genius!" Three nodded.

"I'm a pretty intellectual girl, true." She agreed sagely, tying a connection on one of the daisy chains she'd been making for the last hour. She had already made herself and Five crowns and was working on bracelets at this point. "Look at the stars!! They're so pretty! Like... like god's great big daisy chain!" Two ignored this evidence to the contrary.

"I mean the highway's our salvation! If we can just get a driver's attention, we can hitch-hike home! I mean, it's usually unsafe, but this is Northern California, what are they doing to do, braid flowers into our hair?"

"I like flowers!"

"All we need to do," Two tapped his chin, considering, "Is get up there and start waving!" He grabbed Three's hand and started trudging up the hill. "Come on!"

"Aren't we gonna bring Five?"

"To wave down a car? I figure it'll be easier to convince them to give the really stoned girl a lift after they've stopped, rather than bring it up initially."

After fifteen minutes of frustration and one middle aged man pulling up alongside and, after giving Kuki a once over, curtly asking Two "How much?" (to which Hoagie had responded with a shocked stare and Kuki had stridently demanded "For what?!" loudly and repeatedly until the embarrassed man had driven off), a small blue car pulled off behind them. A girl with wavy blonde hair hopped out and walked towards them. Hoagie thought she looked terribly familiar.

"Need a lift?" She asked. She had a cheerful, plump, lightly freckled face, a nice smile, and a shirt that said "All your base are belong to me" across the front. Hoagie felt his cheeks heat slightly.

"Well yeah, us, I mean we, we just, well, we just-"

"Say," she interrupted his babble with a warm grin. "You're that guy from advanced programming. The one with the cool hat. I'm Annie Robbins." She stuck out a hand.

"H-Hoagie Gilligan!" Hoagie shook it with fervent enthusiasm. "Yeah, our car broke down." Annie leaned and caught sight of the pile of miscellaneous metal bits.

"That was a car?"

"Not to long ago, yes. But in the loosest since of the term." Annie pursed her lips.

"I was going into the city to a LAN party at a friend of mine's apartment. I suppose I could give you a ride back to Berkley and get there a little late. Or-" Her tone rose slightly, almost hopefully, "You guys could come with me, and I could drop you back in the morning. I'm sure my friends wouldn't mind."

"That sounds awesome!" Hoagie was the embodiment of eagerness. The night from hell had abruptly transformed, in his eyes, into a funny, cute meeting story he and Annie would tell their grandkids someday. She was so hot! He bet she coded in Linux... "I mean," he coughed, "if it wouldn't be an imposition or anything."

"Oh, none at all! The more the merrier and all. Is it just you and your friend?"

"Me and Kuki and Abby." Two abruptly became aware of what it looked like. "Neither of whom is my girlfriend. I have no girlfriend. None. In conclusion: I am single."

"Great! I mean, um, Oh." She blushed a bit. The play of the red on her freckled skin was the cutest, most absorbing thing Hoagie had seen since Peter Parker had confessed his love to Mary Jane in his latest _Spiderman._

"Well," she gestured towards her bug, "Climb on in! Where's Abby?" Come to think of it, where was Kuki? Kuki was discovered completing her clover chain a bit further down the embankment, and readily climbed in when called. Abby, once Hoagie explained the situation, smiled dazedly, grabbed a black bag out of the glove compartment, and walked over to the car.

"What's in the bag?" Hoagie asked.

"Party favors. Numbuh Five's little contribution to this potluck." Hoagie sighed.

"Jesus, Abby! For the last time, no one wants any-"

"Actually, I don't do anything, but my friends will probably be delighted to help her smoke that." Annie corrected Two, who was only too happy to have secured the passenger seat. "Buckle up, all." She turned to Two with a shy little smile, left hand- she was apparently left handed- lingering over the CD's disc selector. "Do you like techno? Ferry Corston?"

"I love Ferry Corston." Two assured her as they edged onto the highway again in a lull in the traffic. They pulled up to the speed limit, the little car maneuvering as skillfully as if Two himself were driving. Hoagie and Annie began a conversation that didn't properly end until she dropped Hoagie, complete with a blinding grin that wouldn't quit, and the girls off at the treehouse the next morning. This, of course, included giving him every number she had and a promise to meet her that afternoon for dinner.


	11. final

**Teakettle**:We personally think this chapter is solid gold. The only thing it might need is: more cowbell. If you have a fever, and cowbell is the only perscription, please, let us know. We will do our best to include yet more cowbell. In this chapter. Thanks goes out to James8bitstar for that superflous, but awesome, ending sentence. We LOVE pissing you off.

Royal Venus- Thanks for reading, and good luck with your fic! 

Sailor Venus- eugh, we're so sick of this stupid bugger and cursing the NC-17 ban. We tried to fix that. Thanks for letting us know it was AWOL, and we'll be posting it over on Adult FFN presently.

Numbuh 3.14: Once again, thanks for reviewing AND seeing the wisedom of not forcing Two to live celebate forever. We salute you. You're so complimentary! Thanks!

Ice Puppet: Happy to have pleased! Thanks for reading!

**scone**:anyways, this is the final chapter of **ish**. yes, dear readers, i'm afraid so. but we just felt this was a good place to end it. you all should totally watch out for a sequel, however, in which there is drama! action! romance! (read, sex). we're also all about the remastering, re-releasing and slapping a "special edition" on this sucker, so watch out for that too.

props go out to everyone who has ever read this, to the kids out there on the fighting lines of 1/4 fic-riccery (you all know who you are, and you go!), and all our awesome reviewers. many of you have been mentioned by name, some of you haven't, but i'm really just too lazy to figure out who/when/what was said and respond to all of you. but we love you anyways. Anyways, enjoy.

* * *

**Fresh Itenerary Nicely Astonishes Lads/Lasses**

At 7:13 AM, Numbuh Two closed the front door behind him. He stuck his fingers through the blinds, parting them a bit so he could watch Annie's little blue mini make its way down the street. He gave a small, content sigh, turning around to face Five. His expression was dazed. For what must have been the seventh time, he asked, "Isn't Annie cool? Isn't she the cutest? I bet Annie--"

"Shut the fuck up." Abby commanded, exhausted. "She likes you. You like her. Five is very happy for you both. But she'll be dammed if she listens to one more word about your linux-coding princess." Abby's high had finally crashed like a Boeing 747 into the cold hard ground, leaving her cranky, tired, and woefully unamused. It wasn't that she hadn't had fun – pot and cool people could make any gathering worth her time – but it had been a long night, and her car was still sizzling and smoking somewhere out there in the desert, beyond all hope of repair. She only hoped that One and Four had made good use of her diversion. Quietly, she tiptoed around the corner, scanning the living room. Not even a clothing trail desecrated Nigel's cleaning-roster enforced neatness. She waved Hoagie in behind her. "It's all clear."

"What's all clear?" Though dazed from the blinding shine of lovelight in his eyes, Two was not stupid. He recognized that infiltrating their own living room was somewhat odd.

The ever perky Kuki, however, launched herself onto the long L-shaped couch. She was ennervated from upwards of four hours of playing hard-pad DDR at the party. She had engaged in glorious battle against wothy foes on the Manic setting and emerged triumphant. The primal screams of defeat and conquest had rung throughout the appartment, combining with the tinkling of the J-pop in an epic ballad of victory. It had all been very Beowulf. The warrior, still stinking of battle, coated in the died sweat of her mighty effort, soda and snack foods staining her green camisole like so much spilt blood, needed her richly deserved rest. And she took it there, on a couch that only hours before, unbenownst to her, had been the scene of lusty schenanigans. The warrior opened her mouth, which still vibrated with the aforementioned primal screams, and uttered unto her companions, "God guys, I'm so tired. Can we have pancakes? What happened to my daisy chain?" And the world moved.

Kuki's head suddenly dropped into the pillows, snoring a mighty snore. Two arched his eyebrow.

"So what's up with your covert-ops attitude? Is something wrong?" Five was creeping along towards One's bedroom, betting on the boys having utilized the actual bed rather than rutted in a boxing ring if everything had gone according to her plans. She was also figuring out how to make them pay her for the inevitable damages inflicted on her Under the Bed Stash. Four never could use anything without breaking it. She was sure at least one of her good vibrators was as badly trashed as this year's three blenders, two toasters, and the microwave he'd assualted because it wouldn't melt cheese fast enough. Four's entire allowance was funneled into wall and appliance repair for all the damage he did on the tree house in absent-minded fits or rage.

Five had opened the door to Nigel's room and left it open. Hoagie hovered in the threshhold. Abby was wondering exactly where the happy couple were, and how best to get Hoagie to wait in here while she gently went in and warned them that the gang was indeed all here. Her considerate calculations became totally useless when Nigel, clad only in a towl, sauntered out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. "Wally, darling, did you see what happened to my shorts last ngiht?" He was immediatley answered by a muffled, "By the bureau, luv," which counded suspiciously as if it had come from under the covers.

Five coughed pointedly, and with stunning reflexes Nigel whirled while keeping his towl firmly clamped around his waist. Two's jaw dropped. After a moment of silence, Four sat up. "Arent you going to come get them?" Nigel's horrified profile had him jumping out of bed. "What is it?" Wally panicked, his lithe, athletic, and above all totally nude form bouncing energetically within visibility of the door frame. "Oh, it's just Ab- awe, mother fucking shit." He concluded succinctly. "Mornin' Hoagie."

Four's expression was an odd mixture of embarassed, scared, absurdly proud and just-fucked out of it. He was beet red, but coiuldn't resist a bit of a leer. "And a _lovely_ morning it is, too."

One, on the other had, was more exclusive in his expression. He was very, very worried. Hoagie looked so shocked as to be incapable of speach. "Abigail," Nigel began, voice soft and coaxing.

Five's lips trembled - One feared with hurt or rage, or - she burst out laughing. Her giggles filled the treehousde, and without warning Two joined her. The two clutched each other in laughter even as Four clutched a sheet with which to hide his bits. 'Adonis-like' or not, this was fucking embarassing. When Abby's gale-force laughter had finally subsided, One just rolled his eyes. "I take it you're not mad, disgusted, or even all that surprised?"

"Hell no, who do you think got the team out of your non-existant hair for the night? Five knew before you did, boy. She just thinks it's funny." Her expression softened. "Relax. You my boy. Abby gonna be there for you till you dead. Even if you kill somebody. Especially if it's somebody Abby don't like. That's 'cause we cool. You don't ever have to worry. Unless you broke multiple items from my stash and ain't plannin on reimbursin me. Then, you have to worry." She gave him a quick, tight hug. "You the best boss in the world."

Hoagie couldn't hold it in. "I'm sure we all love working under you- some of us more than others!" Two and Five errupted in another giggle fit with the boys blushed harder.

"You cool too, Mr. Hillarious?" Four muttered with an embarassed irritation.

"Heck yeah. Since Jeannie moved in with my mom, I've gotten about as non-homophobic as it's possible to be. I mean, sure I was wierded out as first, but if you two can make each other as happy as Jeanie and my mom, I'm the first one to grab a six pack, make a toast, and say," and it was clear he'd been working up to this, "bottoms up!" Again Two and Five degerated into quivering piles of snickering.

"I mean," Two gasped, "I've always found your friendship to be very tight!"

"Yeah," Five snorted, "you have been known to share some very private experiences!"

They high-fived spontaneously.

"And," Two rejoindered, "When it comes to One, Four would never borrow anything without ass-king!"

"That was just stupid," Five admonished him. "All I know is, there's more than Count Spankula in this room that enjoys the application of hand to firm-!"

Four, who had initially looked relieved, began to increasingly adopt a homicidal cast. "Why I oughta-"

One began to deftly head off conflict. "Great, team unity is once again restored, blah blah, anyone for pancakes?" He carefully modulated his volume to reach into the living room, where he could just see a few strands of Kuki's black hair falling over the side of the couch.

"Pancakes?" Came the bellow of The DDR Warrior from the next room as she sat straight upright, forgetting all REM cycles in persuit of pancakey pleasure. "Can I drive?!"

"No!" Shouted Two and Five, racing Three to the controls of Two's hoverbus at top speed. Two's planitive, begging whine of "Nonononononopleasegodno! My baby!" could be heard in ever decreasing volume as they rounded the corner to the garage.

When Four had lept out of bed to see what was the matter, he had placed himself, a bit defensivley, in front of One in the doorway. One leaned in and kissed the back of his neck, mumbling against it. "Shouldn't we get dressed now?"

Four leaned back a smirked. "Yeah."

Other, more interesting propositions has started to drift through One's mind. "Must we?"

"'Fraid so." Four said sympathetically, reaching around a hand to quickly goose One's pert cheek- and not the one currently graced with a blush. "Carbs, though, such as are in pancakes? Excelent for boosting energy. I always carboload before a wrestling match." He wiggled a bit to enunciate the double-entendere of 'wrestling'. "And I wouldn't want all these carbs to go to waste, would I?"

Nigel neatly stepped out of his hold. "Get dressed or we'll never make it to breakfast, you oversexed little-"

"That sounds promising." Wally smirked. "Do go on!" He laughed as his clothes hit him firmly in the chest.

"Go. Change. Now."

"Alright, alright. But don't think I don't know your briefs are riding a little tighter-"

"NOW!"

And within a reasonable amount of time, the TND of Sector Five munched gleefully at their local IHOP. And when a dribble of bright amber syrup glisted, sitcky and full on Wally's plump lower lip, One was none too discreet about licking it off.

end


End file.
